


To the Ends of the Earth and Back

by tamashii_resonance



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Bad Parenting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friendship/Love, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Moving Out, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Amnesia, Wes is a good brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamashii_resonance/pseuds/tamashii_resonance
Summary: “Soul, what just happened?”Her weapon looked up at her in fear. “Maka, I can’t resonate with you…”After a simple mission goes horribly wrong, Maka has to face the fact that she may never have her partner again. In which Soul is injured and has amnesia, and everyone tries to piece his memories together."Partnerships are meant to last a lifetime. What if this one won’t?"Published for Resbang 2017





	1. Prologue: The Weapon, the Meister, and the Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for stopping to read this fic. This was done as part of the annual Soul Eater Resonance Bang (the fandom-wide big bang event)! Due to life issues, my posting has been delayed, but I will have the full fic up by the end of the event in January.
> 
> A big thank you to all of the mods for keeping Resbang a fun and organized event each year, and my partner Kawaii_Panda, who made amazing art for this fic that you can all check out [here](http://piercelovewonton.tumblr.com/post/169099641850/resbang-2017-art)!! Please look at this art, because she did FOUR WHOLE PIECES just for this ~~like, what kind of saint chose to do this art for my fic??~~ And she's beta'd everything (and even written parts of it herself, so she's the co-author at this point!)
> 
> That being said, I hope you all enjoy the ride. Thank you!  
> -Tamashii

The alarm clock blared from the nightstand, rousing the two occupants of the bed from their dreams. The ash-haired young man—who also happened to be closer to it—slammed the snooze button. The woman by his side snuggled into the crook of his arm. Her breathing evened almost immediately, and the man took the opportunity to smile down at her sleeping form.

For once, neither meister nor weapon moved from their spots, both too comfortable with the current arrangement.

Soul sighed, refusing to get out of his bed. It was lucid moments like these that he loved most. Quiet mornings. Lazy afternoons. Just him and his meister. Soul began to stroke her blonde hair out of her eyes so he could see her face better.

Roused by gentle fingers in her hair, Maka Albarn groaned and blinked. Her eyes landed on Soul and his tender gaze. The weapon couldn’t help but feel a rush of protectiveness at his partner’s vulnerability.

“G’morning Angel,” he murmured.

Maka smiled sleepily, giving him a slow peck on the cheek before sitting up and stretching. Her sleep shirt fell off her shoulder slightly as she sat up all the way. Her loose hair cascaded down her back and shoulders.

“Morning, Soul,” she replied.

“Wanna sleep in today?”

Maka shook her head. “We should get an early start. We have that thing to go to anyway.”

Soul smirked. “Right, the thing.”

“Ready to go to that mission briefing today?” she asked.

“Do we have to?” Soul grumbled.

Maka cocked her head to the side at his tone.

“Is there a way I can convince you otherwise?”

That piqued Soul's interest. He propped himself up onto his elbows.

“Oh?”

Maka’s eyes gleamed mischievously. She clambered up until she was straddling him. She watched as Soul’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes burning with a dull fire, like the kindling being revived into a full-fledged flame. Maka leaned forward until their foreheads touched, bodies like puzzle pieces meant to fit together. Soul swallowed hard.

“Maaaaaybe,” Maka said, moving to whisper against the shell of his ear, “I can convince you out of bed?”

“I dunno, Angel,” he said thickly. His hands trailed up to her waist. “Sounds more like I won't be leaving bed anytime soon.”

His partner smirked. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Soul.”

And just as easily as she swung up onto him, Maka hopped off and headed out of his room. She could feel his frustration though their wavelength, just as she knew he could feel her pride. Maka allowed herself this small victory as she waltzed out of the bedroom.

If twelve-year-old Maka had been told that she would follow her mother’s footsteps in that she’d be dating the man she made a Death Scythe, she would’ve scoffed.

But that was five years ago. A lot happens in five years, and people change. Maka was no exception. Now that she was seventeen-and-almost-a-half, there were a lot of things that she saw differently than the first time she’d followed the mysterious wannabe cool kid to the cafe with the grand piano in it. Said mysterious wannabe cool kid was now a Death Scythe, a young man at eighteen with a slightly better taste in clothing, though Maka couldn’t say anything about his music.

Just as Maka was no exception to the changes with her maturity, neither was Soul.

Soul took his responsibilities as a Death Scythe seriously for the most part. Though Kid rarely went into battle with them now, remaining in Death City surrounded by paperwork and attending meetings, Spirit was still his weapon-for-hire, and the Thompson sisters were always nearby. Sure, Soul still played music and made time for his friends, but he and Maka were quick to go on missions together.

The biggest surprise of them all was the fact that Soul had somehow gained Spirit’s approval. Maka’s father was still hesitant on accepting Soul wholeheartedly, and was quick to criticize him if he stepped out of line, but compared to the overbearing father figure he had been in years past this was a major improvement. They didn’t have to be nearly as private about their relationship as before. They did keep PDA to a minimum, however.

Maka selected a song from their shared iPod and let the music roll through the living room speakers. She hummed along as she began scrambling eggs in a pan. Five minutes later, there was toast in their little toaster oven, the sausages from the night before were popping happily in the microwave, and she was playing Dvorak over breakfast. Maybe she didn’t understand music like Soul, but she learned to appreciate it a bit more.

The aroma of breakfast must have aroused Soul, who came sauntering in a minute later. He grabbed her around the middle and growled into her ear playfully.

“Fucking tease.”

“I had to get you out of bed somehow,” she countered, giggling.

Soul was about to reply, but he paused upon hearing Maka's choice in music.

“Opus 100? Really? And the third movement no less.”

“It wakes me up,” she replied without looking up. “Can you get the tomatoes from the fridge?”

“The ones I diced last night?”

“Yeah, and the mushrooms. They’ll go bad soon.”

Maka could hear Soul shuffling around in the fridge. He placed the ingredients down next to her a moment later, and nudged her hip with his.

“I’ll finish up. You take a shower. You know your hair takes a while to dry.”

“Wow, what a gentleman. I’m swooning.”

Soul just rolled his eyes. “Shower, Angel.”

“But the eggs—”

“They won’t be overcooked. I’ll make you a new batch when you get out.”

Maka wanted to argue that they really didn’t have time for that (and that Soul shouldn’t be eating four eggs for breakfast because of the cholesterol), but decided against it. She just smacked him playfully upside the head before heading to her own room to grab her towel.

By the time Maka was out, Soul was finishing up the eggs as promised. He’d changed the music to something a bit slower that Maka didn’t recognize. It was definitely jazz piano.

“How jazz is morning music, I will never understand.”

“Books can only tell you so much,” replied Soul, swaying slightly to the beat. “Your eggs.”

“Thanks.”

Soul finished up and tossed the pan into the sink, joining Maka a moment later at the table with his own plate. The two ate in comfortable silence, spare for the piano music. It reminded Maka of being in a breakfast bar, except they were just sitting in their kitchen.

“Submit that paperwork yet?” she asked.

Soul grunted. “I’ll get to it this weekend. Wanted to think a bit more on it.”

Maka frowned. “You know the sooner you turn in those employment forms, the better. The DWMA can’t guarantee you a position now that you’re eighteen.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m aware. Quit nagging. I’ll do it after this mission. Besides, I'm a Death Scythe. I'm sure Kid'll find something for me to do.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Soul stabbed at his omelet. “How much time we got?”

Maka checked the clock on the wall. “Forty minutes. Think we got time?”

“I’ll drive fast.”

“You need to shower too.”

“I’ll pass.” Soul took a bite and continued. “Like you said, we don’t have time. I’ll shower after the mission.”

“Only if you’re sure. And don’t talk with your mouth full,” Maka added when Soul made to reply.

Ten minutes later the two were dressed and out the door. Maka donned her usual black coat despite the late-April heat, Soul favoring an upgrade to his old Spartoi outfit. They headed across the street to where Soul had parked his motorcycle. Though he’d outgrown the one from their early years, Soul decided to keep it the same bright (eyesore, according to Maka) orange color.

“Ready to roll?”

“Just get us there in one piece,” said Maka, yawning.

Soul chuckled, revving the engine. “Don’t fall asleep on me. I need you alert if we’re gonna rock this mission!”

Maka clambered on and gripped Soul tightly around the middle. “We should be a bit early. Wanted to make sure we got there before Kid’s briefing. You know how he gets if we're tardy.”

“Good thinking, Angel.” Soul pulled down his riding goggles. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Half a second later the two were careening through the near-empty streets of Death City towards the Death Weapon Meister Academy.

. . . . . . . . . .

“Well looks who's late!” said Black*Star as Soul and Maka walked into the Death Room.

“As if, Kid's not even here yet,” replied Soul. The two exchanged their usual high fives. “Aren’t you the one who’s off schedule? You always show up late.”

“Hah! A god like me is always on time, right Tsubaki?”

His weapon partner, Tsubaki, nodded in agreement. However, she leaned over to Maka and whispered, “Angela woke him up early today because it’s her friend’s birthday at school today.”

The two shared a laugh while Soul and Black*Star caught up with the only other person in the room, Kilik Rung.

The Death Room had gone through several changes since Kid's awakening, but was still a familiar space for all of them. It still had the blue sky motif that the previous Lord Death enjoyed, and the crosses marking the unclaimed corrupted souls were still sticking up from ground (though in a much more uniform manner), and the guillotine gates marked the entrance and exit, and the mirror on the far end was where Kid took most of the calls. However, that was where the similarities ended. Kid had put his own touches to the place. Now a circular table was set in the middle of the room, exactly eight chairs around it, though more could be added for larger meetings. There was also a closed off space dedicated just for negotiation talks with the Witch Order that few were permitted to enter. Kid only used this space for large meeting like today's mission briefing; all smaller ones occurred in his office in the school.

“Where’s the rest of your group, Kilik?” Soul asked after greeting his friend.

“No idea,” said the pot meister with a shrug. “I heard Ox and Kim are busy with Alliance talks, so Harvar and Jacqueline are out.”

“And your weapons?”

“They're around here somewhere…”

As if on cue, both Fire and Thunder came running out from underneath the table. They still looked more or less identical, though Thunder now had slightly longer hair. The two also talked now, chattering away as they each took as seat to their respective sides of Kilik. Kilik just sighed and did his best to answer their questions.

“Yes, you have to sit through the meeting, you two are old enough now. We’ll have snacks before we leave. No, I don’t know what the mission’s details are. That’s why we’re here to debrief. If it goes well I’ll treat you to ice cream. Yes, I promise. No, you may not! Why are you asking me—”

“Who knew they’d grow up to be so annoying,” Soul said as he sat down beside Maka.

His meister just rolled her eyes. “As if you’re any better.”

“Sure I am. I’m an adult.”

_ You don’t act like one,  _ Maka thought, but all conversation ceased as the double doors swung open.

Everyone stood to attention as an imposing figure walked in, flanked by his two weapons.

“Thank you, everyone, for being on time.”

Death the Kid had hardly changed in appearance since assuming the role as the new Lord Death, but now as a fully-awakened and trained shinigami there was no doubt that he carried same aura of power as his father before him. He had gained over half a foot in height since becoming Lord Death, and he’d mastered his symmetry to a T. He also wore the billowing black robes over his sharp suit, the hood and mask attached, though they were unworn at the moment.

Liz and Patty Thompson walked on either side of Kid, just two steps behind him. They both wore matching outfits: black suit jackets over red blouses, matching black skirts, and smart black heels. Everything they wore had white skull accents, such at their hair clips, cufflinks, and shoe straps. Liz had her hair pinned up in a sensible twisted bun, Patty’s chin-length locks tucked behind her ears. There was no doubt to anyone who even spared a glance at the two that they were the personal weapons of Lord Death himself.

Kid nodded to the collection of meisters and weapons around him before taking his place at the head of the table. Liz and Patty stood on either side of him. Everyone else took their seats.

“Let’s commence the meeting right away.”

“So what’s our mission, Kid?” Black*Star asked as Kid turned on the 3D projector unit on the table.

“We have a witch to hunt.”

Everyone began to wonder what he meant by that. Since the alliance, the DWMA’s staff and students had not fought a single witch, leaving all magical affairs to the Witch Order. Tsubaki was the first to speak up.

“Why have we been asked to hunt a witch? Doesn’t this directly contradict our alliance?”

Kid shook his head. “We’ve been asked to do this by Mabaa herself. She and the other witches have informed us here that they would like help with this situation.”

Seeing that there were no other comments, Kid continued. “Now, what I am about to tell you is sensitive material. Only three-star meisters, myself, and now you are privy to. Make sure that everything that happens in this room stays in this room until the mission is successful.

“Now then. Our target today is a witch named Echo. About six months ago, she and a group of followers decided that the Witch Order had made a grave mistake listening to our demands from the Alliance. They broke away from Mabaa and went rogue, leading surprise attacks against our strongest groups around the world. Echo’s group has been slowly amassing more numbers with the goal to attack us here in Death City and eradicate this institution.”

Black*Star scoffed. “And the old witch isn’t doing this because…?”

“Because the witches who have gone to fight her have been hurt in the process too,” said Liz. “We don’t know the specifics, but it looks like Echo’s got some kind of anti-magic attack too. So their best bet—”

“—is to ask meisters and weapons with similar abilities to knock her out, right?” finished Soul.

“Precisely.” Kid smiled thinly. “This is why I’m asking your team to go, specifically because you have all worked together before, and we’re hoping that Maka and Soul’s attack will be the killing blow.

“Now, onto the mission. The witches have given us the known hideouts of their sister, Echo. We’ve traced her location here.”

Kid clicked the interactive map. Moments later the topographical map of a region somewhere in southern Greece popped up. The party all leaned forward as Kid zoomed in.

“These seems to be some old ruins, with an intricate maze network. The center of her base is in the middle of an abandoned coliseum. She’s set up a defensive magic and used soul protect so it’s been hard for us to actually track her. Fortunately, Mabaa has been very generous with her time and magic. She has agreed to teleport a small team of specialized meisters and weapons to the location, as well as setting up a barrier in the area for an hour alongside Free. We’re hoping this will give our ground crew enough time to neutralize the threat and collect Echo’s soul.”

“Will you not be joining us again, Kid?” Black*Star asked. “I bet your form’s getting rusty.”

Kid just shook his head. “You know full well that part of the agreement between the DWMA and the Witch Order is that I am to have no direct involvement with the collection of a witch’s soul unless they grant me permission, Black*Star. Which they haven’t.

“Besides,” he added, grinning a bit, “it almost sounds like you think you won’t be able to get Echo’s soul without me being there.”

Black*Star rolled his eyes at that, but his grin was equally playful. Everyone in the room relaxed marginally. Deeming the briefing over, Kid closed the map.

“The mission will commence in exactly fifteen minutes. Please take this time to mentally prepare yourselves and come up with an attack strategy. I will be in a meeting with Mabaa during this period. Contact me immediately if there is any update, good or bad. Good luck to you all. I know you can do it.”

With that, Kid stood up and left the room. Liz and Patty, however, remained.

“Kid’s left us with all the information for this mission,” said Liz. “Let us know if you have any questions. We’ll be the ones you’ll be communicating with here while Kid’s at that dumb meeting.”

As Kilik and Tusbaki began asking Liz questions, Soul leaned back in his seat. He glanced over at Maka, who had a hard set to her face.

“What's up?”

Maka just shook her head. “I'm not sure. Something about this whole situation seems fishy to me. I understand the witches wanting out help if it involves anti-magic and all, but why us? Why not have more experienced three-star meisters and Death Scythes? I'd think people like Dr. Stein or even my idiot father are more qualified.”

“But Kid told us why. Only we've got that anti-magic sucker punch.”

“So does my mom.”

Soul grimaced. Speaking of Maka’s mom was still a sore subject in the house, especially after she lost even more contact with her daughter.

“I doubt your mom and your dad would work together again. In terms of stability, we might be the better choice,” Soul argued. “Besides, it sounds like you're doubting yourself. Doubting us.”

“I'm not!”

Soul grinned. “Exactly. So let's get this mission done and go home.”

Maka smiled. Soul reached over and squeezed her hand under the table. The weapon always knew exactly what to say to ease any tension.

“Game plan's set!” Patty called.

One last squeeze, then the two were up on their feet. Maka walked over to the map with Soul at her side.

“So what’s the strategy?”

Kilik pointed towards Soul and Maka. “Well, it’s obvious these two are going to land the final blow. We just have to make sure not to underestimate Echo and her cronies. Fire, Thunder, and I can limit their mobility, pound up some terrain.”

“Black*Star and I will hold off anyone while they do that,” said Tsubaki. “Our job is to make sure they have a clear path.”

Soul fist-bumped Black*Star. “We’re counting on you.”

“You got it!”

“Your entry point is going to be here, on the east side,” Liz explained, pointing. “There's an old aqueduct tunnel that should lead you to the central square. From there, you're on your own.”

“We'll figure it out,” said Black*Star with confidence.

Everyone nodded. Patty smiled and giggled.

“Well, it's almost time for you guys to go! Use the bathroom now or you'll have to hold it!”

“Why did you say that?” Liz asked, causing Party to laugh all the harder.

Over the din of everyone making their last preparations, Maka felt Soul's soul nudge her own. She focused on stretching as he stood beside her.

“Ready, Angel?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The bright lights of a portal opening by the mirror alerted the team that it was time to go. Everyone gathered around, weapons transforming and landing in their meisters’ hands.

Soul cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “Let’s get this over with so we can go home and have a nice hot shower before dinner.”

Maka rolled her eyes a bit, but there was no hostility in the action. The two looked straight ahead towards their landing site, hand-in-hand. Soul shifted easily, his body light and familiar in Maka's hands. She gripped his tightly.

“Let's go.”


	2. Confrontation! The Witch Echo's Secret Weapon?

The three meisters walked through the light. When it dissipated, they found themselves standing in darkness. There was a slight drip of water around them, as well as several long marble hallways that resembled corridors.

“This must be the aqueducts,” noted Kilik. He held up a single gloved palm. A moment later, the light of a rich red flame lit up their path. “Let's move before our presence is discovered.”

Kilik lead the way, Maka in the middle, with Black*Star taking up the rear. They walked in silence, the only sound being their footsteps.

“Do you sense any presences, Maka?” Black*Star asked.

The other meister focused on the souls above them.

“Five, no six nearby. There are three further along. It seems like they are witches using soul protect.” And then she paused. “There's one much further down. Alone.”

“That's gotta be her.”

_ ::We should split up,::  _ said Tsubaki.  _ ::If Black*Star and Maka go first towards Echo, Kilik can keep these witches distracted.:: _

Soul disagreed.  _ ::It's three versus six. If anything, Maka and I should take care of these lackeys and then move on to Echo!:: _

Kilik was frowning, considering his options.

“You guys should go on ahead. Once Maka makes the first move, Black*Star and I can move onto distracting. As long as we move fast and stay low, they shouldn't be able to find us.”

“Are you sure?” Maka asked.

“We have a time limit as it is. The less time we waste locating Echo, the better.” Kilik raised his opposite fist. “You do you, Maka. We've all got your back.”

Maka pounded his fist. Soul was also grinning.

“We're counting on you, Kilik!” Maka turned to Black*Star and nodded. “Let's move out.”

“Hold up! Almost forgot these.”

Kilik pulled out a three ear pieces from his pocket. “Probably wanna be able to give each other status updates, yeah? My team uses these almost every time.”

Black*Star gave a thumbs up. “Good thinking!”

“Thanks Kilik. We'll let you know if we need more help.”

As Kilik stayed by the center, Maka and Black*Star headed deeper into the old aqueduct. The further they went, the darker it became. The meisters were forced to rely on their other senses over their sight.

Black*Star was silent for once. If it hadn't been for her soul perception Maka wouldn't have even noticed him. Ever since Black*Star started to take his training more seriously, his talents at hiding away in the shadow had improved.

“Maka,” he breathed. “Above.”

She nodded. There was definitely a presence there.

Black*Star shifted to a ready position. Maka contacted Kilik.

“We're going in for an attack. Hold your ground.”

“Roger that,” came the reply.

Black*Star nodded once before launching himself out of the ground. Maka followed close behind him through the hole he created. There were four witches there, obviously surprised by the attack.

_ Good,  _ thought the meisters as they landed.

Black*Star was able to wound one who wasn’t anticipating the blow. She screeched in pain, falling back. The meister wound up for another attack, but was blocked by the second witch. Maka readied herself too, but a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“After the boy,” it commanded softly. “I want to fight the girl.”

There was no doubt in her mind that this was Echo. Maka turned to face her.

The witch Echo had a dainty face. Slightly slanted eyes, painted lips, hooded eyes with long eyelashes. She was short, shorter than even Maka, but the way her soul’s power emanated gave her an appearance of being much, much larger.

Her chin length brown hair was curled, poking out beneath her pointy hat. She wore a standard black dress with a long slit running down one side of it, showing off her creamy skin. She also had a shawl of brown fur wrapped around her shoulders. A matching brown belt was chinked around her waist. Her arms were almost entirely covered by long black gloves.

She turned slowly as Maka and Soul appeared before her. She smiled.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Last Death Scythe and his wee little meister. I’m honored,” she said, tone simpering.

_ ::Honor’s all mine, witch,::  _ said Soul. Maka could hear the smile in his voice.

“Echo the Witch,” said Maka, voice strong and full of confidence. “You have been charged by the Witch Council of treason, illegal use of magic, and breaking the laws set by the Alliance. By the code of the Alliance and the DWMA, I will bring you to justice!”

She widened her stance, readying herself.

“Your soul is mine!”

“Oh, how dramatic~” Echo cooed. “But unnecessary. Let me show you who you are up against.”

Maka crouched into a ready position before running full speed ahead. Echo threw projectiles at her, Maka expertly hopping out of their way. Being light on her feet had always been a gift of hers, and constant training made dodging nothing more than muscle memory.

She spun Soul into a ready position, swinging in an arc downward towards Echo’s head. The witch flew back, obviously a bit thrown off by the duo’s speed.

_ ::Keep going!:: _

Maka used Soul’s blade as a springboard, pulling him up out of the ground and along with her and she hurdled towards an unready witch. Echo help up her hand, barely able to block them with a pillar. Maka ran up the length of it. She swung down for a kick, missing by half an inch.

She was about to pull another attack when she felt Soul give her a warning tug.

_ ::Fall back and regroup.:: _

“Roger that.”

Maka backpedalled. It was a good move, for not a moment after she was out of range another projectile went flying. Maka was able to make out that it was shaped vaguely like a bat.

“Thanks Soul.”

She felt his grin. Maka took a deep breath and watched Echo, trying to calculate her next move.

It seemed that Echo was also sizing them up. She didn’t dive in for any attacks.

“So she’s on the defensive, huh?” Maka asked.

Soul was quick to agree.  _ ::We may have to call backup to be safe. If we dive in too early we could take a full attack. We just need to hope that one of the other teams will get to us.:: _

“I have a feeling Black*Star will remember what it means to be an assassin type and give us backup. Until then, we’ll stall her.”

One twirl later and the two were back on the offensive.

Echo wasn't a strong close range fighter. That much was clear to Maka. She was able to land a few minor hits here and there and drove Echo back against a wall more than one time. Nearby, Black*Star was fighting the other three witches. He seemed to be using a similar tactic as Maka: dodge and weave.

Maka wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she heard the distant boom of heavy artillery. No doubt Kilik found a good opportunity to strike. The adrenaline fueled Maka. She hopped back and landed on top of a pillar. It shook a bit under her, but she felt steady. She wiped the sweat from her brow, taking a deep breath.

There was a thrill that came with battle. It usually scared younger meisters and weapons due to their inexperience. It used to scare Maka too. Now, however, she couldn’t help but grin.

This was fun, in a messed up sort of way.

Black*Star landed beside her a moment later. “Just gave Kilik the signal. It’s now or never.”

“Sounds good. Soul and I are going to use Genie Hunter on her. Make sure the others can’t intervene. I’ll need backup after that.”

The assassin laughed. “Backup? Hah! A god like me’ll have cleaned off all of the rogues whatevers before they so much as get within a mile of here. And then we’ll smack Echo for you. Tsubaki! Demon blade mode!”

_ ::Right.:: _

Tsubaki’s form shifted into the black katana.

_::Incoming!::_ Soul warned.

Black*Star grabbed the hilt of the sword and dove to the left as Maka rolled to the right to avoid the blast. The witch before them cackled and spread her arms as if they were wings.

S O N I C   S C R E E C H

The pillar they’d been on moments ago disintegrated into dust. So she was a long range fighter. Good! Maka and Soul had this fight on their side. 

_ ::She’s good,:: _ Soul observed.  _ ::She’s not diving in for any attacks.:: _

Maka nodded. “Yeah. She’s definitely analyzing our fighting style and looking for an opening. If she gets too close and the wrong time, then our Anti-Magic Wavelength would surely kill her.”

Maka could hear the smirk in Soul’s voice.  _ ::Good thing we don’t leave any openings. C’mon, let’s show this old bat what happens when you choose to battle a Death Scythe and a soon-to-be 3-star meister!:: _

“Sounds like a plan.”

Maka easily twirled Soul, crouching into their fighting stance, something they’d mastered together in the last five years.

“Ready?” she asked.

He laughed.  _ ::Born ready. Let’s go.:: _

**_S O U L   R E S O N A N C E_ **

An artificial wind began to whip around the pair. Maka grit her teeth and tightened her grip on Soul’s hilt as their combined power rippled through her. The ground beneath her feet cracked. Some of the lighter debris began to float around her, attracted to the pull of their wavelength.

There was a moment of calm when the flow of their wavelengths stabilized. Without hesitation, Maka raised Soul, feeling him shift in her grasp.

_ ::Let’s go!:: _

Maka leapt forward at an inhumane speed. It was as if the world was moving in slow motion. She could see that Echo wasn’t prepared to block them. There was an obvious opening.

“Take this!” she shrieked. “Genie Hunter!”

And then there was a shift. Echo floated back just outside of reach of the scythe’s blade. Maka frowned, suddenly uncertain. She lost her balance in midair due to the mistimed swing.

Echo leaned forward placed a gentle finger on Soul’s blade, smirking.

“Wrong move.”

A sound like shattering glass cracked across the battlefield. Maka lost her grip on Soul as they were blown backwards in a force like a sound wave. She landed hard, crashing through two crumbling pillars before bouncing off a tree onto the ground. Coughing, Maka forced herself to her feet. She was bruised and there was a deep gash across her face, but other than that she was unharmed.

Soul was lying about thirty yards away. He had shifted back to his human form and was sitting up with a groan. Ignoring her pain Maka ran over to his side. She tried to see if he was okay but…that was weird. His wavelength was so faint. Did she hit her head harder than she thought?

“Soul, are you okay?”

“M’fine. Though as a death scythe, that was uncool.” He accepted her hand up. “You?”

“Just some scratches. I’ve had worse.”

Soul stared up at the witch. “What the hell was that counterattack anyway? Shouldn’t the Genie Hunter’ve gotten her?”

“I don’t know. But we don’t have time to think about that. Let’s just hit her with something else.”

The weapon snorted. “Reckless as ever, Angel.”

“Not now, Soul. We have a witch to take down in ten minutes. Let’s go!”

“Roger that!”

Maka held out her hand. “Soul, transform.”

There was a second of silence. Frowning, Maka turned to her partner.

Soul was staring down as his hands, expression somewhere between confused and horrified.

“What the—?”

“Soul, I said let’s go. Transform!”

“I…I can’t…”

“What?”

“I said, ‘I can’t.’”

Soul was trying to reach out for his meister’s wavelength, but something was off. Maka frowned, her gaze shifting from normal to one that could see souls. She stared at Soul, confused. His soul was still there, but the wavelengths it was emitting were weird. They swirled and rippled with no rhyme or rhythm. Worst of all, they weren’t completely blue.

“What the hell’s going on?” Soul cursed. “How are we supposed to fight?”

“You won’t.”

The two looked up as Echo floated down towards them, her face contorted with glee. She pointed towards Soul and giggled a little.

“Like it? It’s a little spell I’ve been working on for quite some time now. And I’m pleased to see the effects were this immediate~”

Maka’s face immediately contorted to anger. “You! What have you done to Soul?”

Echo ignored the meister, floating around them in a slow circle.

“Let me tell you a story about a little witch who didn’t quite fit in. Her fellow sisters were afraid of her, you see, because she herself possessed a magic that made no sense. It was more destructive than the others because it hurt those she held dear. What’s a witch to do, after all, if her powers literally make magic obsolete?”

Echo swung around so she was facing Maka, floating so close to the meister’s face that she could count the lashes on her eyes.

“See, I’ve always been a bit different from my sisters. I had a power that threatened all witches in existence. That’s why no one’s actively tried to fight me in the last few months until you DWMA students had to get involved.”

“You possess an anti-magic wavelength attack like us,” Maka said.

Echo’s smile confirmed it all. “Our power lies in our soul, right? Simple. Just like you, I can block the power that resides in a witch’s soul. And though the effects aren’t permanent, they’re long enough for me to finish whatever dirty work I have.”

“But I’m not a witch,” said Soul.

“No, you most certainly are not,” said Echo flippantly, “but you’re the closest thing a human can be. After all, you did consume the soul of one of my sisters.”

“Arachne,” Maka breathed.

“What Death Scythes seem to forget is that consuming a witch’s soul makes them more powerful because it’s the  _ magic _ that they’re consuming. Once that magic is consumed, it becomes a part of the weapon.”

Maka finally put the pieces together. She broke out in cold sweat.

“She’s blocked off the power of the witch’s soul you’ve already absorbed. Which is now fused with your weapon form. But that means…”

“I can’t transform.” Soul blanched, his back hitting the tree behind him as his knees buckled. “We won’t be able to fight.”

Maka turned to look Soul in the eye. Her weapon looked up at her in fear.

“Maka, I can’t resonate with you.”

“Oh, so melodramatic! Like I just said, the effects are temporary,” Echo laughed. Then her face darkened with bloodlust. “But that’s more than enough time for me to finish you off.”

She pointed towards Soul, who slowly lifted off the ground.  “After all, a weapon in its human form is weak, death scythe or not.”

Soul struggled against the invisible hand around his neck. He pulled at the non-existent fingers, glaring at Echo. The witch casually flicked her wrist. Soul went careening through the wall behind them.

Maka shrieked as she felt Soul go unconscious, what little connection their wavelengths still had forcefully ripped apart.

Echo sighed. “Oh, I do hate the sight of blood. Absolutely dreadful stuff, really. But now half my job’s done. That’s one less Death Scythe to threaten our existence. And now to finish you off, little Grigori soul.”

Maka grabbed the nearest branch and crouched into attack. Echo laughed a bit.

“Oh, won’t give up without a fight? So be it. Sonic Shr—”

“RAIOUSEN!”

The lightning strike struck Echo square in the chest. She shrieked in pain and surprise, looking up to the sky.

She was forced back again as another powerful bolt of lightning struck her, this time in the eye. Echo’s pretty face contorted into something much uglier as she pointed once at Maka.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, immediately flying away.

Before Maka had a chance to react, another meister landed in front of her, his weapon in his hand.

“Are you alright, Maka?”

“Ox! Harvar!”

Harvar’s human form flashed through the staff.  _ ::Sorry we’re late. We were caught up defeating some underlings.:: _

“Why are you here? I thought you were in the meeting.”

“We got a call from Patty that the mission wasn’t going as well as we’d hoped. Kid sent us for backup. More importantly, are you hurt, Maka?” Ox asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, spitting blood. “More importantly, it’s Soul. He’s hurt, I can’t resonate with him, I don’t know wh—”

_ ::Calm down, Maka. Breathe.:: _

Ox nodded. “Harvar’s right. Calm down. Go check on Soul. We’ll send a signal to Kilik.” He pressed a finger to the communication device in his ear. “Kilik? Come in, Kilik. It’s Ox. Maka and Soul are down. I repeat, Maka and Soul are down. Reinforcements are on their way.”

_ ::We have less than ten minutes until the portal’s back,:: _ said Harvar. _ ::We need to fall back.:: _

Black*Star and Tsubaki were there a moment later, as fast as lightning. Tsubaki gasped as she shifted back to her human form. She didn’t ask what happened upon seeing Maka’s shell-shocked expression.

“We need to get him to a doctor,” said Black*Star, unfazed.

Ox nodded. “Kim should be in the meeting now. She can probably leave with Kid’s permission.”

“Then we’ll get him to Death City,” Tsubaki said. “Black*Star will carry him there. Then we can get him to Kim and Dr. Stein. He should be fine from there.”

She placed a gentle hand on Maka’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Maka-chan. Soul will be okay.”

Maka stood up shakily as Black*Star cradled Soul’s limp form in his arms. The last she saw of her partner was his bloody, near-lifeless body before Black*Star took a mad dash towards the landing site.

. . . . . . . . . .

Meanwhile, in Death City, Kid sat rigidly in his seat, staring at the blank mirror. To one side of him, Patty was doodling in a sketchbook. On his other side, Liz was drumming her manicured fingernails nervously on the table. None of them said a word.

“They’ll be fine,” said Liz after another agonizing minute.

“I don’t doubt the strength of our team,” he said stiffly.

That got Patty to look up too. The sisters shared a quick glance. It was obvious how tense Kid was, but neither could goof off to ease the tension as they usually did. Not with the highest ranking members of the council present.

The doors to the Death Room opened with a bang. In marched Kilik, Fire, Thunder, Ox, and Harvar. All of them wore grim faces.

The shinigami and the witches from the Witch Council waited with bated breath. Kilik was the one to sigh and deliver the bad news.

“Echo got away.”

The room rumbled with hushed whispers. Kid bit back his frustration.

“I see,” he said. “How are the teams? Anything to report?”

Ox grimaced. 

“It’s Soul. He was knocked unconscious, and Maka said there was a severe disturbance in his wavelength. She’s been trying to reconnect with him to feel the extent of his damage, but…”

Kid held up his hand. He’d heard more than enough.

“Kim. Go to them immediately. Heal as much as you can, and then bring him to Dr. Stein immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

Kim nodded. She excused herself from the room and dashed to the portal.

“You may want to stop her, Lord Death,” said Kitsune, Mabaa’s second-in-command.

“Why?” he asked. “One of my weapons is in serious condition. Magic would help his recovery.”

“His physical one, yes, but not his soul’s one.”

Kid glared at her. “What do you mean by that?”

Kitsune hesitated. “Perhaps…this is a conversation for a later date. For now, we should allow you and your subordinates time to rest. This was a harrowing mission from the sounds of it.”

Deeming the meeting over, the witches stood and followed Mabaa behind the mirror. Kid could hear the portal to their world open and close, but didn’t care to look. He was sitting stone still, staring straight ahead at nothing.

“Kid?” Patty asked.

The shinigami blinked.

“Pardon me, I need a moment alone. I’ll be in my office.”

He stormed off, leaving his two weapons to pursue him. Kid didn’t acknowledge Liz’s shouts or Patty’s questions. He just walked even faster until he was at his office deep in the middle of the school.

The moment he was alone, Kid slammed the door shut loudly. Liz and Patty rushed in. Kid swore loudly, throwing several of the documents on his desk onto the floor. Liz grabbed his wrist in an attempt to make him stop.

“Kid, knock it off! The more you mess up your room now, the more you’ll have to clean up later. And I don’t know about you, but I do not want to be measuring the creases in your papers to make sure they’re perfectly symmetrical again.”

“Symmetry be damned!” he swore. “Why in Death’s name did they keep this information from us? There’s obviously something about her magic that affects souls too!”

“They probably didn’t think it was important,” offered Liz.

“Oh, I’m sure they knew!” said Patty. Liz gave her an astounded look, but Patty continued. “They needed our help, right? They probably didn’t know what the witch could do.”

Kid just shook his head. “It’s my fault. I put too much trust in them, in our alliance. I should’ve known not to put everyone in danger like that.”

He fell to his knees a bit, shoulders shaking. It’d been years since Kid had last cried, but he needed to let one out today.

Patty had other ideas.

“Oh, get a hold of yourself! You call yourself a shinigami, even with that attitude?”

“P-patty!” Liz warned.

Patty grabbed Kid by the front of his jacket. “Listen here, Kid. We’re members of DWMA. We put our lives on the line ‘cuz that’s what’ll make it so innocent people don’t die in the hands of corrupted people. I ain’t stupid enough to forget that, and you shouldn’t either!”

“But—”

“You’re a GOD, now start actin’ like one!”

There was a tense minute where no one spoke, though Patty was breathing heavily. Then finally Kid relaxed a bit and put a hand on Patty’s

“You’re right.” Kid took a deep breath and stood up, straightening his clothes. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. Right now…we need to make sure everyone is okay.”

Patty beamed, slapping him across the back. “Attaboy!”

“Thank you, both of you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Liz also smiled. “That’s our job, you idiot. You may be the leader, the Lord Death, all that jazz, but you’re still our Kid. Don’t forget that.”

Kid faced the door. “Let’s hurry to the hospital. I want to make sure everyone’s injuries are taken care of.”


	3. Several Hospital Visits and an Empty Apartment

Nygus walked out of the surgery room exhausted. Her shoulders slumped from exertion as the tension slowly eased out of her. This hadn’t been the worst injury the DWMA had dealt with, but it still felt like it took hours for there to be any progress. Thankfully, Soul was in stable conditions now. All Nygus needed was a hot shower and good night’s rest.

_ I’ll have Dr. Stein give the full report,  _ she thought to herself.  _ For now, I need to find— _

“Nygus!”

“Ah, Maka.”  _ Has she been waiting out here this whole time?  _ “I was about to go looking for you. You’re wondering about Soul, aren’t you?”

The young woman nodded. “How is he? Is he going to be okay?”

“That,” came a new voice, “is something only time will tell.”

“Dr. Stein?”

Stein came out from the room, haggard. His eyes had deep shadows under them. He beckoned Maka over.

“Nygus, feel free to go home now. I’ll let Kid know how everything went.”

“Thank you doctor,” she said before turning on her heel and departing.

Stein took a deep breath before beckoning Maka to follow him. The meister didn’t hesitate, trailing Stein all the way to his office. The doctor didn’t stop until the door was shut. He slumped in the seat by his desk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Maka waited until he took a few drags before interrupting.

“So Soul’s not okay?”

“He’s physically fine. We’ll be able to see how he’s doing mentally once that time comes, but for now all his physical injuries are healed thanks to Kim. You owe her the biggest thanks, Maka.”

The meister nodded stiffly. “How much damage is there?”

“There was some massive internal bleeding, which Kim fixed. At the moment, Soul’s in a coma, but he’s breathing on his own and there’s been no major shutdown of any organs. What’s concerning is there’s low brain activity. Once he wakes up it’ll pick up, obviously, but for the time being Soul’s body is trying to reconnect with his mind.”

“And his soul?”

“Weak, but there. Are you able to resonate with him at all?”

Maka shook her head. “After Echo cast her spell, it felt like that time when our wavelengths weren’t completely aligned, back when we did extra training after fighting Crona. Once he was knocked out I haven’t been able to resonate.”

Dr. Stein’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. He couldn’t show Maka how concerned he was. She didn’t take his last injury well. Though she had only been a child then, this was still a lot to take in.

Maka was the one to break the silence.

“Can I see him? Just for a minute, then I promise I’ll leave.”

Stein just chuckled a bit. Maybe he was worrying for nothing. Maka was almost an adult now. She knew how to compose herself.

“Normally, I’d say you need to wait at least 24 hours. You’re honestly the only student I’ve had who I can make an exception like this for. Go,” Stein commanded. “But you do have to be out in twenty minutes. Hospital policy.”

“Thank you.”

Maka rushed straight to the room where Soul was being held. She knew he’d be asleep, but maybe he’d wake up when she came in. Not necessarily likely, considering he slept through so many other injuries beforehand, but there was always a chance.

She paused at the door, noticing it was open. Curious, Maka peeked in. There was already someone sitting in the chair by the bed there. Their long black cloak and ominous hood made them a sight to see. Perhaps in another life, Maka could understand how people used to be afraid of a shinigami standing at the foot of their bed. However, seeing the figure comforted her.

“Kid.”

“Maka.” The shinigami stood up, but Maka motioned for him to stay seated. She walked over to look more closely at Soul’s face.

If it hadn’t been for the machines he was hooked up to, Maka would’ve assumed he was merely asleep. Soul’s sleeping face held no pain. His wavelength was erratic, but Maka chose to ignore the uneasiness that caused.

She placed a hand against his cheek, leaning down so their foreheads were touching.

“Soul,” she whispered. “I know you’re asleep, but I hope you can hear me. I’m waiting for you right here. We all are. So wake up when you’re ready. I’ll be here for you. I’ll always be here.”

Kid swallowed, unsure how to react to the intimate display. Maka pulled away and turned to him, smiling tensely.

“It’s been a long day,” she said, “hasn’t it?”

Kid bit his lip. “Maka, I don’t have words to express how sorry I am.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Maka insisted. “We had no idea that Echo’s powers would be capable of something of this magnitude.”

Kid didn’t look pleased about that. “I will have a very firm conversation with the Witch Council about what transpired today. I hate to doubt them, but I’m afraid that they withheld valuable information from us. Why else would they have been clear not to bring a Death Scythe to the mission? How could they allow for us to send our best into unknown dangers?”

“At least it was only Soul. Imagine if others were injured too.”

Kid looked conflicted, but eventually sighed and slumped forward.

“We’ll figure all of this out. I want it to be resolved in a neat and tidy manner.”

“You should go home and rest,” said Maka.

“So should you.”

“I want to spend a bit more time with Soul, if that’s okay.”

The shinigami looked conflicted, but yielded. He gave Maka another guilty smile before departing with a swirl of his cloak.

After Kid left, Maka stared down at her partner. She listened to the white noise of the background: the hiss of air, the whirring of the fan, the beeps of the heart monitor. She reached out with her soul again, but recoiled at the way Soul’s soul refused to react to her presence. 

Maka was in a haze.

Soul was hurt once again. Soul was lying in a bed, barely alive all because she wasn’t strong enough. It was just like the time with Crona.

Maka shook her head. Soul would never forgive her for going down that path again. Every mission, every hiccup and injury inflicted on one or the other, they promised they would never blame themselves for it again. Still, it was hard not to reflect on her own actions when Soul was the one hospitalized and she managed to escape with only a few scrapes and bruises.

She had to stay strong for his sake.

“Maka.” Dr. Stein’s voice was soft from the doorway. “I’m going to turn this off for the night. Are you ready?”

Maka gently cupped Soul’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, Soul,” she whispered. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning, so rest well and get back on your feet soon.”

. . . . . . . . . .

As promised, Maka was there the next morning. She wasn't sure why, but she felt the need to talk to Soul. So she talked.

She told him about how the weather was getting warmer now that it was almost May. She explained how Blair was planning to go shopping soon. She complained about the relative ease of all of her classes, and Black*Star’s lack of manners, and her father. And when she ran out of things to talk about, Maka stopped.

“I have to go,” she said. “I have classes, and we’re out of groceries. You know, you never did get to take that shower. So Soul, you should wake up and go home so you don’t smell so gross.”

There was no reaction. No flutter of eyelids, no reaching out of a wavelength. Maka just sighed and placed a chaste kiss to her partner’s forehead before leaving.

The third day passed by in much of the same manner. She met with Kid in the morning to give a full report of everything that had occured the day of the mission, and went to her classes in the afternoon. Maka had a test to study for, so instead of going to the library or the empty apartment after school, she swung by Soul’s room. She set up all of her notes there. Three hours later she was done. Soul was still passed out beside her.

“Everyone’s been asking how you’re doing, you know,” said Maka. “They can’t wait to see you. I can’t wait to see you too. I’ll be back tomorrow, Soul.”

The fourth day in the hospital marked a slight change to Maka’s schedule. Today Stein came in holding two cups of coffee.

“Kid asked me to help with the meeting with the Witch Order. Apparently they know a bit more about Echo than they originally said. They’ve agreed to release more information about her, as long as we in turn assist with her capture.”

Maka nodded. “That seems fair.”

“They’d also like you to appear as a witness, since you and Soul were the two who took her head-on.”

Maka nodded again. “When’s this meeting?”

“Not until after lunch. I believe Kid wanted to give you some time to steel yourself for the questions. The witches may be quite hasty to cast negative judgement of you and Soul simply because of your nature.”

“Because we’re dating?”

“Because you’re the youngest death scythe/meister pair alive. Soul’s injury may seem like a blessing to some of them.”

Maka set down her mug, frowning.

“Dr. Stein, hasn’t Kid secured our allegiance with the witches? I don’t understand why they can’t trust us when we’re trusting them.”

Stein set down his empty mug.

“Maka, do you trust all witches full-heartedly, 100%, unconditionally, and without conviction?” he asked.

Maka hesitated, but shook her head.

Stein nodded. “Same with me. Same with everyone who’s been involved with the DWMA. And the same goes for the witches. Even if Kid had put all his efforts into creating a harmonious world where we can coexist, the fact of the matter is that we may never be able to. Not until all the death scythes are gone.”

“So what? We won’t see peace in our lifetime?”

“Perhaps not. But even then, peace isn’t a guarantee. Imagine if some loyal supporters of the former shinigami’s ways decide to splinter off from the current DWMA. Perhaps they’ll have a new weapon that may consume a witch’s soul. Then what? We’re all back to square one.”

“I think I understand,” said Maka. “It’s just hard to think they could be so heartless.”

“Heartless, or perhaps numb to losing one of their own. Whatever the case may be, just stay calm during the questioning. Don’t try to argue back too much.”

“Understood.”

She followed Dr. Stein out of the hospital and towards the Death Room.

Kid was waiting for them there, along with Kim. He gave them both a slight nod. They took their seats at the table. Maka looked ahead, taking careful stock of the witches.

She’d never had the opportunity to meet those who were part of the central council. There were six of them. In the middle was Mabaa. Her entire face was hidden, all except for her single eye, which stared straight at Maka. The meister swallowed and looked away.

The other five looked more normal. They were all staring at Maka and Stein with various degrees of mistrust. The one to Mabaa’s immediate right was obviously the speaker. She had a narrow face and sharp eyes, just like a fox. She commanded attention, that was for sure.

“Is this the meister who was present during Echo’s attack?” she asked.

“Yes this is, Kitsune,” said Kid. “Maka Albarn is the Last Death Scythe’s meister.”

Maka bowed to them all slightly. Kitsune scoffed a bit.

“Well then, let’s get this over with,” she said. “What can you tell us about the mission.”

Kid nodded. “From what we’ve gathered, the witch Echo has the ability to block the Anti-Magic Wavelength because she too has a similar ability. She cast it on Soul, one of my Death Weapons, blocking the witch soul he absorbed. This in turn blocked off his wavelength from his meister and rendered him unable to transform for a short period of time. During that time, Echo struck the weapon, injuring him.”

Kitsune turned back to Maka. Their eyes met.

“Is this description consistent with what you recall?”

Maka nodded, keeping her gaze steady. “Yes. Soul and I tried to use our Genie Hunter, but Echo touched it and it shattered. During that time, Soul realized he couldn’t transform. After that…”

She trailed off. Kitsune’s expression softened slightly.

“I see. And his wavelength?”

Maka tried to speak, but the weight of the events that had transpired suddenly rendered her mute. Noticing the meister’s distress, Kid responded for her.

“According to Maka Albarn, Echo mentioned the effects would be temporary. However, we do not have an accurate time frame to work with. Temporary could be a few minutes, it could be years.”

“Suppose he wakes up soon,” said another witch who resembled a dog based on her ears and tail. “What is your plan with him then?”

“Full reintegration,” Kid said swiftly. “Preceded by rehabilitation, of course. I will have Dr. Stein, Miss Diehl, and Miss Albarn in charge of all of this. They will report any changes to me, and I’ll report them promptly to you.”

Mabaa finally spoke. “Nyamu.”

All the other witches bowed at her word, whatever it was.

“I suppose this concludes this part of the meeting?” Stein asked.

“We need a second witness, of course,” Kitsune said. “It would be beneficial for us to postpone further meetings on the matter until the Death Scythe Soul has recovered enough to give us a recounting of the events, if that is favorable for all present.”

A small chorus of ayes echoed around the room. Kid nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “If that is the case, then I second the movement to postpone further meetings on the matter of Echo the rogue witch. Thank you for your participation Maka. You are now dismissed. Dr. Stein, we’d like more details on Soul’s current condition.”

Maka exited the room. The hum of voices faded behind her. She just needed to get home and rest.

“Tomorrow will be a new day,” she reminded herself. “Tomorrow may be the day Soul wakes up.”

. . . . . . . . . .

It’s dark.

It’s very dark.

There are shapes moving, but they’re faint, unsure. Reach towards them and they vanish. Turn away and they follow. The shadows felt like fingers. They grabbed.

No, like a million tiny legs.

Spiders.

Struggling, struggling, gotta get away. Gotta get away. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but why? Why head towards it. The spiders are everywhere, but they’re familiar? They’re known. Don’t leave, just stay. Stay. Stay.

Stay?

No, someone’s waiting. Can’t keep them waiting.

Who?

They’re worried.

Who?

They miss you?

Who?!

The light for now. Just go to the light and she’ll be there. Angel will be there.

The light is right there, the spiders are calling.

Come back, come back.

Go, go, go.

Go to the light.

. . . . . . . . . .

The light is blinding. He’s blinking, he’s disoriented.

He’s sitting up.

“Oh, thank Death, you’re finally awake!”

_ Angel,  _ his subconscious fills in, but he forgets it the moment it comes.

He sees a girl. She has green eyes and pigtails. Is she an angel? No, is her name Angel? No no, that doesn't seem right. Maybe he should ask her?

“I…I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“What do you mean by that, Soul?”

Soul.

That’s right. That’s his name. Soul. It’s familiar.

He stares at his hands. His hands are here. They close, they open. He makes them close and open. He is Soul, and his hands are opening and closing.

There’s a pressure on his chest. Push it away, or accept it? He’s conflicted. He pushes, then pulls, then decides that pushing is easier. It’s exhausting. Opening and closing his hands is easier.

Blocking out the push and pull is easier.

. . . . . . . . . . .

“Soul?”

Maka was tempted to start shouting, or crying, or a bit of both, but she kept her composure. There was obviously something going on. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reached out slowly with her soul, as not to startle him.

_ It’s fine. We’ve resonated a thousand times before,  _ she told herself.

And then there was the recoil, but this time it hurt.

Maka backed up from the bed sharply, holding a hand over her chest. Stein noticed this immediately, taking Maka’s other hand and guiding her away.

“I’m sorry about that, Soul,” he said smoothly. “You’d woken up briefly before, and our new nurse-in-training thought you may have recognized her from then. Isn’t that right,  _ Nurse Albarn. _ ”

“I, yes,” said Maka, catching on. “I’m sorry. I’ll wait outside for a bit.”

The two left a very confused-looking Soul.

The moment they were out the door Dr. Stein grabbed Maka by the shoulders.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“You saw as much as I did, Dr. Stein. He didn’t recognize me. And his wavelength is all over the place. It’s almost like a stranger’s.” Maka frowned. “It’s weird. It felt like it was trying to attack me.”

Stein was frowning too. “That’s not good. This could be a side effect of the witch.”

“Do you think his brain is still not functioning all the way?”

“It’s highly possible.” Dr. Stein sighed. “For the time being, I’ll give Soul some time alone and see how he’s doing. Until then, why don’t you head home? We can start again tomorrow.”

“But--”

“Go home, Maka. I’ll figure this out.”

Maka hesitated, but seeing Stein’s expression made her turn on her heels and rush out of the hospital. Night was falling. It was now officially five days since Soul was first knocked out. He didn’t recognize her. His soul tried to attack her.

Maka didn’t know how to feel. She bit back tears as she stormed blindly through the streets.

She ran into a person, not even noticing it until she stumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Maka mumbled before recognizing the wavelength. “Papa?”

The Death Scythe helped his daughter to her feet. His face was pulled into its usual frown. Though his expression was impassive, Maka could feel the worry rippling off him in waves.

Then, after a long moment, Spirit wordlessly opened his arms.

Seeing her father standing there with his heart and soul bared to her made something in Maka break. She couldn’t stop the tears that began to flow, nor the sobs that caused her shoulders to shake. Without a second thought, she dove into his embrace and let out everything she’d been holding in.

Spirit was calm, allowing Maka to let everything out. It wasn’t until after she pulled away with a sniffle that he smiled. Small, comforting.

“Here,” he said, holding out an arm. “Let Papa walk you home tonight.”

Maka took her father’s arm, causing him to beam on the inside, before clarifying that was strictly for her, not his own selfish needs to be a good father. He was gentle as he pulled Maka from the alley towards the sidewalk. He was equally gentle when he helped her into her apartment to the couch.

He went to get Maka a glass of water. By the time he returned, Blair was already curled up on her lap, looking up at her worriedly. Spirit set down the glass.

“Is there anything else I can do?’ he asked.

Maka shook her head. Spirit nodded.

“Okay, I’ll head home now. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Spirit was about to shut the front door behind him when he heard a soft voice.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Spirit smiled. “Of course, Maka. Rest up. Soul will need you tomorrow.”

Spirit didn’t realize how accurate his words were, but all he cared about was Maka’s happiness.

. . . . . . . . . .

Ever since he heard she’d returned to North America for work, Spirit had this number in his pocket. He would look at it from time to time, but never mustered the courage to actually dial. However, times had changed. Maka was in trouble, and Spirit didn’t know who else to turn to for advice.

“Hello?”

Spirit smiled, voice strained. “It’s me. It’s been a while.”

“Spirit.” The voice on the other line was cold. “I didn’t expect this. Can’t say it’s a pleasant surprise.”

“I know you don’t want anything to do with me, and I know that I don’t have a right to demand you to come here, but Maka needs you, Kami.”

Kami clicked her tongue. “Then why didn’t Maka call me, Spirit?”

“I—okay, just listen to me for a second, please,” he begged. Hearing the line hadn’t gone dead yet, Spirit began talking fast. “Maka and Soul were on a mission earlier this week. They fought a witch, and Soul was injured. He’s suffering from amnesia, and Maka doesn’t know what to do. I know…I know you don’t like the fact that she’s dating, and I know you don’t trust Soul, but he’s a good kid and Maka cares about him a lot. She’s hurting, but she won’t tell me too much.

“I know she looks up to you more than me.” The words left a bitter taste in Spirit’s mouth, but he swallowed his pride and continued. “It would help her if she knew her mother were on her side. Just to be there for support.”

There was a long pause. Spirit was about to ask again when Kami sighed.

“This is only because I trust your judgement when it comes to our daughter. Maka’s strong. You wouldn’t be contacting me if it wasn’t urgent.”

Spirit let out a long, shaky breath. “Oh Kami—”

“Don’t get too sentimental, Spirit. Remember, I’m not here for you, I’m here for Maka.” A pause, the sound of paper flipping. “I have some important business that can’t wait, but I’ll be able to come by in around a month. I’ll clear my schedule for as long as I can, but no guarantees.”

“Do you want me to tell Maka you’re coming?”

“Let it be a surprise. I’ll see you then.”

“Thank you, Kami.”

The line went dead, but Spirit felt a wave of relief. Maybe things would turn out to be better soon. He sure hoped for, for his darling daughter’s sake.


	4. Mr. and Mrs. Evans

Seven days had passed since Soul had first woken up from his coma, and Maka was still not allowed in to see him.

She didn't know much of the situation. She had only heard bits and pieces from Kim, and the witch had been cagey about it. But what Maka had gathered wasn't good.

  1. There was something very wrong with Soul that no one wanted her to know
  2. He didn't recognize anyone when he woke up
  3. He was currently in physical rehabilitation with Nygus



Aside from that, it was a mystery.

Maka growled with frustration as she slammed her book shut. Blair glanced over from the kitchen, clearly concerned.

“Maka, what's wrong?” When the meister glared at the cat, she sighed. “I was just trying to be nice. Sorry for asking a rhetorical question.”

“I'm sorry Blair. I'm just really frustrated right now.”

“Maybe you should go burn some energy,” Blair suggested.

It was a good idea, but Maka felt bad just thinking about it. She was used to dragging Soul along with her when she went to work out, since workouts usually just consisted of training. Still, Maka forced herself off the couch and to her room. She changed into running clothes, grabbed her keys, and headed out with a quick goodbye to Blair.

Running through the streets of Death City helped take her mind off of things a bit. The chaotic maze of cobblestone alleys and brick buildings were familiar to Maka. She’d grown up here her whole life. She knew every nook and cranny, every hidden path there was.

She also knew the way to the school that had the least number of people to accidentally run into.

Maka arrived at the base of the wooded training ground half an hour later, panting. She had pushed herself today. It usually took Soul at least ten minutes to drive to school, and they would climb the stairs at a walk. Maka hadn’t stopped until she was all the way at the top.

The grounds were pretty empty. Maka belatedly realized it was Saturday.

“Only fools practice this hard on a day for rest,” Soul would always say when Maka would drag him out for extra training.

Maka smirked as she slowly walked in a circle around the area. He was always like that. Lazy to a fault unless otherwise inspired.

With her mind more clear than it had been an hour ago, Maka pondered what to do next. She could go to the hospital and try to see Soul again. She did feel bad abandoning him like that due to her own shock from his lack of recognition. That only confirmed to her now that she needed to be there for Soul in case he did recover any memories.

“Right!” she shouted to the sky, raising both fists into the air. “Time to start over! Today’s a new day!”

Feeling better than she had in the last few weeks, Maka headed straight to the gym in the school to shower and change. The clothes she left in there weren’t necessarily the best, but they were clean. Then she walked back over to the infirmary on the other side of the school.

Kim and Jacqueline were walking out just as Maka was walking in. The three girls stopped.

“Ah, Maka.”

“Hi Kim. Hi Jacqueline.” Maka smiled at them as brightly as she could manage.

Kim looked down at her feet a bit, so her partner cut in. “Are you here to see Soul?”

“Yep! How’s his rehab going?”

Kim looked up. “Well, he can walk now. And he’s talking. All his motor skills are back, though his hands still shake when he tries to write and eat. But that should go away soon. You should ask Dr. Stein for more details. I’m going out for the day.”

“Oh, okay…”

Maka watched as Kim dragged Jackie away with a sharp tug. That was odd. Kim was always a bit brash and cagey, but she usually didn’t run off like that anymore. Maybe there was something she didn’t want to tell Maka about Soul? Pushing down the feeling of dread, Maka walked in.

“Excuse me!”

“Maka.” Stein looked up from the file folder he was reading. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’ve been trying to keep busy,” she replied. “I heard from Kim he’s able to walk and talk normally now. That’s better than when he woke up.”

The doctor nodded. Maka’s smile fell a bit. She steeled herself for the next part.

“And his memories?”

“We were going to ask today.” Stein sighed. “I’ll be honest, Maka. I’m not very hopeful. He didn’t recognize anyone here, and we’ve been so focused on his physical rehabilitation that we’ve more or less swept this problem under the rug. Our hope is that once we have all the information we need, we can proceed as necessary.”

Maka swallowed. “I see…”

“Maka, feel free to observe. But for the time being I’d like to keep contact with people at a minimum until we can figure out the extent of his amnesia.”

She nodded, unable to find her voice. Stein squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’ll invite you in when I deem it appropriate.”

Maka nodded again.

“Until then, you can watch everything happening on this screen. I’ll be wearing a mic, so it should be able to pick up both my voice and Soul’s. Is that okay with you?”

“I trust you, doctor.”

Maka sat down in front of the monitor Stein had motioned to and braced herself for what was to come. But just as the doctor was leaving, she stopped him.

“Can I just try to resonate with him? Just for a bit, and then I’ll stay put.”

Stein motioned for her to go ahead.

Maka shut her eyes, reaching out to Soul. She could tell there was something affecting his soul, something more than a bit of healing could do. But it wasn’t corruption. Just...another force. She felt for Soul and for a brief moment she could feel warmth.

Was that…?

Maka bit her lip and retreated as a force like an electric shock went through her body. Okay, maybe they weren’t in sync after all. Stein was watching her curiously.

“Are you okay, Maka?”

“Fine,” she grunted. “Just a bit shocked is all. It was going well for a second too.”

“It was,” Stein agreed. He decided not to mention that it was full-blown resonance, that he could sense Maka’s wavelength amplifying in that moment. For now, he didn’t want either party to push it. Not until he could get to the bottom of what was going on inside of Soul’s mind.

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul Evans looked up as the doctor walked in again. He’d gotten used to seeing him now after three days of rehabilitation. He had to admit the man’s scars and screw had scared him at first, but he was a cool guy. He sat up a bit in the bed, crossing his legs.

“Afternoon, Dr. Stein.”

“Hello Soul.” Stein sat down in the swivel chair by the bed, clipboard in hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” he said. He frowned a bit, which Stein noted.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“There’s a lot going on, I guess,” Soul replied. “Since I was able to take a shower and all last night, I finally looked in the mirror, y’know. It got me thinking… I don’t remember how I got into the hospital, or where I got this big scar on my chest, or really anything.”

Dr. Stein nodded. “Well, you got that scar when you were about fourteen or fifteen. I was the one who patched you up then too.”

Soul looked at him in shock. “Fifteen?!”

“Yes, thereabouts.” Stein checked over his notes. “Yeah, fourteen.”

Soul was shaking now. “Um, doctor? Can I ask a kinda weird question?”

Dr. Stein braced for the worst. He had a sinking feeling he knew what the question would be.

“How old am I?”

“You’re currently eighteen years of age.” Stein frowned. “Why? How old did you think you were?”

“Twelve…”

Soul was definitely shaking now. His face was paling as well. The poor boy leaned forward in his bed until his forehead touched his knees. His breath came out in short pants as his hands balled into fists. Something wasn’t right.

Dr. Stein frowned. This wasn’t good at all. Soul’s wavelength was going haywire again. It had done that a few times when he was asleep, and Soul would wake up as if he’d seen a nightmare every time, though he insisted he had no recollection of what had occurred during the night.

“Soul,” he said firmly.

The weapon looked up with wide eyes.

“Doctor?”

“Relax. You’ve had quite a bit of trauma to the head. It’s fairly common for temporary amnesia to occur with head injuries. And you’re doing fine. So there’s no need to panic.”

It wasn’t much, but it did help marginally. Soul was at least breathing better. Stein gave him a comforting smile.

“We’ll figure this out, okay? I’m saying this as your doctor.”

“Okay.” Soul took a deep breath and sat up. “Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“It makes sense,” Soul murmured to himself under his breath. “My body’s obviously different, I’ve got hair all over, my voice is deeper, I smell weird. Did I just forget puberty?”

Stein couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

“Well, if it’s any condolence to you, puberty sucks for everyone, so you may have dodged a bullet there.”

Soul grinned at the joke too, but his face soon fell.

“Dr. Stein. But I don’t remember you from before, even though you said you’ve operated on me.” Soul looked back up at Stein in fear. “Does that mean I don’t remember anything?”

“Well, let’s see how much you do know.” Dr. Stein began to flip through his clipboard. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and I want you to answer them. Maybe if we do that, we can pinpoint exactly where your memories stop. That might give us a clue on where to start to jog your memory.”

Soul nodded. “Okay. Sure.”

“Then I’ll get started.” Stein went down the list he had prepared. “What is your full name?”

“Solomon Edward Evans, but everyone calls me Soul.”

“And the name of your parents?”

“Tom and Giovanna Evans.”

“Any other family members?”

“I have an older brother, Wes. He’s eight years older than me. Oh, and I’m really close to my grandma on my dad’s side.”

Stein nodded. So far so good. He had a lot of the core memories.

“Can you tell me the names of some of your closest friends?”

Soul hesitated. The doctor looked up. The young man looked a bit nervous.

“Um,” he started. “Well, funny story. I don’t have any friends. Like, there are a few people from school I was friendly with, but they’re not the kind of people I’d invite over or anything.”

Interesting.

“Well, not everyone meets their best friends in childhood. I’m sure there are friends you made in your teen years.”

“That makes sense, yeah.” Soul said it with a shrug, but he seemed excited. “Last I remember, Mom was talking about letting me enroll in a new school since I didn’t like the one I’m at now. Or, um, was at then, I guess.”

Dr. Stein pressed on. “Where was the last place you attended school?”

“St. Vincent’s, but my mom wanted me homeschooled last year.”

“Does the name Death City mean anything to you?”

Soul frowned. “You mean like the place where weapons and meisters train? Of course everyone knows of it.”

Stein masked his surprise expertly. “Well, I was hoping Death City would be familiar, considering that’s where you are now.”

“Woah, really? Get out!”

“You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t care,” Soul replied, scratching the back of his head and laughing. “I was like, ‘Cool, I’m in a hospital.’ I just figured we were back in Connecticut.”

Connecticut, huh?

“Well then, once you’re feeling up to it we’ll have to let you step outside for a bit,” said Stein. “There’s a young lady named Maka Albarn who I’m sure would be more than happy to show you around.”

“That’d be amazing!”

So he didn’t remember Maka’s name. Dr. Stein was frowning now. He made a quick note, knowing that everything was being recorded on the security camera so it wouldn’t be that big a deal if he didn’t. Still, he wanted to remember this now.

“Can you tell me anything about yourself? Some of your interests, aspirations, anything at all.”

“Well…” Soul thought for a bit. “My whole family’s into music, so I play piano. Wes is way better than me though. I dunno, I wanna live a cool life. I just don’t like music as much as my parents want me to, I guess.”

There was a beat of silence as Soul thought over something.

“Hey Doc?”

“Yes Soul?”

“How’d I even end up in Death City? Was I on vacation or something.”

_ Or something. _

“I think that’s a question your parents should answer,” said Stein. “We’ve called them, by the way. They said they’ll be here soon to sort out everything.”

Soul nodded. “Cool.”

“Well then, I’m going to head out for lunch. If you need anything, Nygus is just downstairs, so push the call button and she’ll be up.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Stein exited the room, turning off the mic in his pocket as he did so. He opened the door to the small office where Maka was sitting in silence.

Never had she expected Soul to be completely like this. Sure, she’d expected some things, but never to this extent. The motor controls he was learning again, and he could walk now after a week of physical therapy. But forgetting her… forgetting he was a weapon?

Maka turned up to look at Stein.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“Honestly?” He sighed. “Even I’m not sure. Hopefully Kid will have some idea when Soul’s parents arrive tonight.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Kid groaned quietly into his tea. The meeting with the Witch Council was long and fruitless this morning. Eventually tensions rose and they reduced the numbers down to just Kid, Mabaa, and Kitsune. It was in times like these that Kid was reminded just how young he was.

_ I’m only eighteen, not even nineteen yet. How am I supposed to keep the peace when no one seems to want it? _

There was no way his day could get any worse.

Just then Sid burst into the room. “Kid, I have something to repo—” Then he noticed the company and bowed awkwardly. “Mabaa, Lord Death, forgive my rudeness.”

“Nyamu.”

“It’s quite alright, Sid.” Honestly, Kid was still more hung up about how awkward it felt when he was called ‘Lord Death.’ To him it still felt like his father’s name and title, not his own, even after three years. “I take it you have urgent news to rush straight here.”

“I’m sorry. You’d blocked all calls to this room.”

He nodded. “After all we are in the middle of negotiating some very important peace agreements. I was hoping to get it documented neat and tidy before the month’s out. Hence why I was hoping for no disruption.”

“Right, of course.” Sid grimaced in the best way his face could manage. “Soul’s—that is, Death’s Last Weapon’s—parents have just arrived. Liz and Patty have escorted them to your office.”

Kid sat up straight. He hadn’t been expecting them for at least another hour! That put a damper on his neatly-organized schedule.

Kitsune was the one to wave her hand. “Please speak to it— _ his _ parents. We witches will continue our search for our rogue sister Echo in the meantime. And we shall meet on the eighth at 8 o’clock as previously agreed upon.”

“Thank you both kindly.” All in attendance stood. Kid straightened his jacket. “Until next week.”

Kid exited the room with Sid close behind him. Spirit, who had been guarding the entrance, stood to attention when Kid walked out.

“How did the negotiations go?”

Kid shook his head. “Not now. More importantly, Spirit.”

“Yes sir?”

“I’d like you to accompany me. Same with Dr. Stein. I think you should both be present at the meeting before we invite Maka in.”

Spirit was giving Kid a strange look, but he nodded. “Right.”

“I’ll go fetch Dr. Stein,” said Sid, bowing once more before taking off.

The doctor was waiting for the two of them near the office. He’d worn a clean jacket and a freshly-pressed shirt. It was clear that being married to Marie meant some of the more domestic chores were being done.

Liz, who was sitting at the attendant’s desk checking for split ends, glanced up as Kid entered. She pointed a thumb towards his office.

“Good luck with those two. They reek of money and pompous attitude,” she said, tone disinterested.

Kid frowned. “I hope you were polite to them.”

Liz waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “Yeah yeah, I was, don't worry about it.”

“Can you get Patty to fetch Maka? I think she should be here in about fifteen minutes, after we’ve made initial negotiations.”

“You and your negotiations.” Liz just shook her head, but shouted to the other desk. “Oi, Patty! Get Maka!”

“‘Kay~”

Kid sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and took a deep breath. It was now or never. He threw the double doors open and Strode in with as much confidence as he could muster.

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” he said as he walked in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Lord Death.”

The two people sitting in the room looked up. They were obviously Soul’s parents; they resembled him in that they were pale and blonde. The woman was tall and thin, her hair pulled back in a twist. She had sharp blue eyes and white hair, and wore a fitted suit jacket and pencil skirt. The man wasn’t much taller than her, though he was a bit more wide in the shoulders. His hair was more of a light blond, and his eyes were very dark.

Kid nodded to them before taking a seat at his desk. Spirit and Dr. Stein stood on either side of him.

“I hope you do not mind that my personally employed weapon, Mr. Spirit Albarn, and our top physician, Dr. Franken Stein, will be sitting in for this meeting, as they have both worked very closely with your son.”

“We don’t mind,” said Mrs. Evans. “I’m Giovanna Evans. This is my husband, Tom.”

Everyone exchanged their pleasantries and shook hands.

Kid cleared his throat.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. Shall we get down to business?”

“Yes, let's. Thank you for contacting us,” said Mr. Evans smoothly, “though I must say we weren’t expecting my wife’s pocket mirror to start ringing.”

“My apologies. Most students at DWMA do not carry their phones, myself included. They tend to interfere with a meister’s soul perception. Most communication is done through mirrors, though students only have the ability to contact myself. I am the only one who can call mirrors other than my office. It’s one of the few benefits of being a shinigami, as maddening as it can be.”

Seeing the joke had flown over their heads, Kid coughed and continued. “As you both know, I’ve called you here to talk about your son’s condition, as well as discuss the course of action we should take to ensure his full recovery.”

Both parent nodded.

“Now according to Dr. Stein, Soul has thus far made an incredible recovery. Thanks to the help of both him and Ms. Diehl in the infirmary he’s regained all motor ability. Aside from a severe case of amnesia he is doing very well.”

Mr. Evans was the first to speak.

“How bad is it? The amnesia.”

Dr. Stein replied. “It seems that Soul has retained all of his memories up to around the age of ten or eleven, with some scattered recollections of when he was twelve. However, our staff found it quite evident that Soul has no knowledge that he is a demon weapon. He claims to have only heard of the DWMA through secondary sources and does not believe he has any affiliation with it.”

“And how much have you told him?”

“Not much,” Dr. Stein admitted. “Soul did end up panicking after hearing he was eighteen, and we decided that it would be beneficial if he were not bombarded with the information that he is the youngest living Death Scythe on Earth. For now, I’ve been working closely with the other staff at the hospital to figure out an exact time frame for his memories, but it’s been tricky since we only know him from weapon-awakening onward.”

“Do you have any questions?” Kid asked.

“I do,” said Mr. Evans. “What about the person who wields him. What is it called—his master?”

“Meister,” Kid corrected. “Miss Albarn has tried to reconnect their wavelengths a few times now, but it is evident Soul has lost the ability to resonate as well.”

Seeing neither adult was truly understanding, Stein began to explain. “Weapons and meisters have to be mutually compatible to be successful. Imagine writing a piece of music. You choose a key. A wavelength is like a note in any key. It can be used in some, but not others. That’s like the compatibility of souls. Some souls are compatible, others never will be.

“Your son and his meister were particularly well-balanced. In battle, a meister wavelength is key to their strength. The stronger the wavelength, the stronger their attack power. Once resonating, which is how weapons and meister's use special, more powerful attacks, the weapon is like an amplifier. They make the meister's wavelength stronger.”

Spirit laughed a bit at their confused expression. “It's hard to explain, trust me. Just know Soul and Maka had a very strong bond that only they could accomplish. Together.”

Mrs. Evans nodded slowly. “That sounds… very important.”

Kid smiled. “It is. Most meisters and weapons form exclusive bonds due to this compatibility issue. Not every weapon can accept every wavelength, and there is a high chance of rejection that could result in physical pain, mental strain, the weapon feeling too heavy to the meister, injury, and even death in extreme cases.”

“I see,” said Mr. Evans. “So Soul and his meister were compatible and could resonate.”

“Indeed. Your son and Maka were especially well-bonded. They are by far the strongest meister-weapon pair that I know of in their age group. Their souls were capable of resonating without them thinking about it to a point where they could sense each other's emotions. Soul even told me once that he and Maka could communicate thoughts through their resonance alone. Even I, a shinigami, am unable to do that with my weapons.”

“I see,” Mr. Evans repeated, though he sounded much prouder this time.

Mrs. Evans, on the other hand, bristled a bit.

“It sounds invasive. Dirty, even.”

“Dear,” her husband warned.

“So where is this meister now?” Mrs. Evans demanded, ignoring her husband and turning back to Kid.

“She’s on her way. I gave us an extra fifteen minutes to begin discussing Soul’s reintegration to the DWMA.”

“Well, there was no point in that because there will be no discussion.”

Kid blinked. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Mr. Death,” said Mr. Evans. “Please understand all we want is what’s best for Solomon.”

_ Solomon?  _ **_That’s_ ** _ his real name? _

If Soul had his memories, Kid would’ve considered teasing him about it a bit. He shook the thought away. Now was not the appropriate time for that.

Mr. Evans was talking, wringing his hands together nervously. “My wife and I have talked, and we believe it would be best for our son to be around family during this time. Since, as you mentioned, he has no recollection of his friends here in Death City.”

Kid nodded. “Of course. We can make arrangements to have you stay here until—”

He was interrupted by Mrs. Evans. “What my husband is trying to say is that we want to take Soul back home to Connecticut with us.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Please understand how we feel, as parents. This is the second life-threatening injury our son has sustained in the care of the DWMA. We know how the organization works, and we all understood the risks of letting Soul attend. But we are uncomfortable knowing he’s put his life on the line countless times, even if he willingly did so.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” Kid said in as level a tone as he could manage. “I understand where you’re coming from, but I must ask you to reconsider. As you are probably aware, your son is one of my Death Scythes. Even if he himself cannot activate his own abilities, he is one of the most powerful weapons in the world.”

“And he cannot transform. He has no recollection of this. We want to protect Soul from the things that hurt him in the first place.”

“I’m afraid that may not be in his best interest then,” said Stein. He watched the Evans’s reaction carefully as he continued to speak. “With all due respect, Soul is a death weapon, and one of the most powerful beings in the world. Memories or not, he will be hunted by the witches who put him in the hospital for that reason. Safety is our top priority.”

“Then we will guarantee his safety!” cried Mrs. Evans. “We will hire the best of the best!”

Spirit sighed, leaning forward. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the world you can guarantee his safety, ma’am. Not even a shinigami. But Death City would be the safest place. We have hundreds of capable weapons and meisters here who would protect your son. There are two other Death Scythes residing in this city who Lord Death could call upon to defend Soul in a moment’s notice.”

“But--”

“I'm speaking as a parent here too,” said Spirit. “I would never forgive anyone if my daughter was put in harm's way. But she has been, time and time again. Your son was always the one to save her, since the day they became partners.”

“It’s your daughter who's his meister,” Mr. Evans said.

Spirit nodded sadly. “And I couldn't imagine a world where Maka didn't have Soul at her side. I know this is hard for both of you, but please... For the sake of both of them, let him stay. I, as both Maka's father and the employed personal weapon of Lord Death, will guarantee his safety.”

Mr, Evans looked more and more conflicted, but Mrs. Evans wasn’t having any of it.

“We’ve made our decision,” she said firmly. “Now please let us see our son.”

“And what of his meister?” Spirit asked, obviously angry. “What am I supposed to say to my daughter? How am I supposed to explain to her that she’s losing her partner of five years for what may be the rest of their lives?”

“What?”

A quiet voice from the doorway made all the arguing in the room seize. All five adults turned to the doorway where a young lady stood, her green eyes impossibly wide and porcelain skin paling.

A lump rose in Kid’s throat. “Maka…”

“‘Maka?’” Mr. Evans repeated. “So you’re—”

“Soul’s meister,” murmured Mrs. Evans in disbelief. “Such a small, pretty thing like you? Impossible.”

Maka didn’t seem to hear them. She shook her head, eyes never leaving them. “You want to take Soul away from Death City? Why? No, how? How can you do that?”

Kid didn’t dare speak, let alone move. A quiet Maka was a deadly one. He’d known her long enough to see the signs of her impending anger.

Mr. Evans, oblivious to this, didn’t. He stood and walked over to the meister, who was now staring down at her feet, and tried to put an arm around her.

“Little Miss, why don’t you take a seat?”

“No!” Maka slapped his hand away. Her glare at him was practically acidic. “Don’t ‘little miss’ me. What do you mean you’re taking Soul ‘home?’ His home is here at the DWMA! With everyone!”

She took a shaky breath. “...With me.”

“Just because he stays here doesn’t mean he’ll be the same boy you knew,” Mrs. Evans insisted. “Perhaps this is for the best.”

“You don’t understand. Soul’s in there! I can feel him!”

Mrs. Evans was frowning. “What do you mean by that?”

“Resonance! I felt his wavelength today, just for a moment!” Maka turned to Kid, expression pleading. “Please, Kid, you have to believe me. I know Soul’s still there. He just needs time. Please.”

Kid sat in silence for a second before sighing.

“Dr. Stein, could you please escort Miss Albarn out for a few moments? There are a few more things I need to discuss with Mr. and Mrs. Evans in private.”

Maka stood up. “There’s no need. I’ll wait outside. I’m sorry for my outburst.”

Spirit reached out for his daughter, but she marched out before anything could be done. His hand fell uselessly at his side.

“She can feel him?” the woman scoffed. “Does she really think that is proof enough to let Soul stay here?”

Mr. Evans was grimacing. “Dear, don’t be rude. This is hard for everyone, even us.”

Dr. Stein had heard enough. “Oh, Mrs. Evans?”

The woman turned to him.

“I suggest you don’t take Miss Albarn’s words too lightly. Her soul perception skills rival those of our best.”

“And who would be this ‘best’ you speak of?”

Stein smiled wickedly. “Me.”

Spirit sighed as the two gulped. He knew Stein had a better handle on his own madness, especially after getting married and having a kid, but there were still moments like these where it happened.

Kid took a calming breath. He figured the Evans would want to have more involvement with Soul’s recovery, but he didn’t expect it to be to this calibur. A setback, but something he had to deal with. He was Lord Death after all.

Kid sat up straight and readjusted his papers so they sat perfectly straight on his desk before bringing his fingertips together and looking pointedly at the couple.

“Neither of us is happy with the current arrangement, so let’s try something else. What are your terms?”

“Kid!” Spirit gasped. Stein raised an eyebrow.

Kid remained impassive. He just leaned forward a bit more.

“Let’s negotiate.”


	5. 2,728 Miles Away

Liz handed Maka a cup of tea. “Here. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just put a bit of honey and sugar in it”

“Thanks.”  Maka graciously accepted the hot drink, letting it’s warmth sooth her soul.  The wait for answers was driving her into anxiety. Knowing that the fate of their partnership, of Soul’s placement, was in the hands of this discussion and whatever proof Kid could send their way left her mind drained. Hanging onto hope that felt almost futile.  Still, that hope seemed to be the only thing keeping her together at this moment.

Liz noted the slight shake in Maka's hands.

“How you holding up in there?” she asked.

Maka groaned a bit. “Honestly? I'm not sure.”

“Sad? Angry?”

“Drained,” the meister replied. “I just want this all to be over and Soul to be home.”

“I'm sure you do. We all do.”

It took nearly twenty minutes before the door opened. Soul’s parents exited. Mr. Evans gave Maka a small smile while Mrs. Evans didn't even look her way. Kid appeared soon after in the doorway. Maka was on her feet instantaneously, cautious not to spill what was left in the warm cup, her eyes practically pleading with him. Kid sighed and stepped aside.

“I suppose you should come in now,” he said. There seemed a slight disdain in his tone, but that hope… Maka prayed it would shine through.

Maka set her cup down. Liz gave the meister an encouraging nod.

Once the door was shut behind them, Maka turned to Kid.

“So?”

He didn't answer right away. It was Stein who finally broke the tense silence that was bleeding through the room.

“They’ll be taking Soul with them tomorrow morning.”

“What?!” Maka stiffened. “You’re kidding, right? Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Kid bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Maka.”

She refused to accept it. Of course she did. “That can’t be… Surely there’s something  **you** can do, Kid. You’re a shinigami and head of this academy!”

“I’ve checked through every file since Soul’s been hospitalized. There are some loopholes, and it looks like the Evans have hired someone to go through them as well.” 

“Soul’s enrollment—”

“—was only guaranteed until he turned eighteen, which was last month. And he hasn’t turned in an employment agreement yet.” Kid hesitated. “Soul came to my office the day after his birthday requesting I give him more time to decide. I agreed to, as a friend. He said he wanted to wait until you decided on what you would do post-graduation. He mentioned you were considering enrolling in college.”

. . . . . . . . . .

_ “So what’re you thinking about doing?” _

_ Maka hummed thoughtfully. “I’m honestly not sure yet. College, maybe. I’ve been taking the standardized tests, and my scores aren’t bad. But I wouldn’t mind staying here and working, so long as…” _

_ Soul glanced over. “‘So long as?’” _

_ “So long as we’re still partners.” Maka looked up at him. “Do you think we would be?” _

_ Soul scoffed. “Are you kidding me? We’re the best team in the world! Kid’d have no reason to separate us. Plus, I dunno about you, but I’d practically feel like I was cheating on each other or something.” _

_ Maka smiled, closing her eyes and leaning back against the bed frame. “You’re right. It  _ would _ be weird.” _

_ The two snuggled a bit closer on the bed playing footsie under the blanket they were sharing. Their souls were performing a similar game, pushing back and forth playfully. It was Maka who broke their comfortable silence with a question. _

_ “Hey, Soul?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “What would you do if I decided to leave Death City?” _

_ “Isn’t it obvious? I’d come with you.” _

_ “You would?” _

_ “Maka. I would travel to the end of the world and back if that’s what it took. So long as I’m by your side.” _

_ Maka nuzzled against him, a smile on her lips. “Soul?” _

_ “Mm-hmm?” _

_ “Thanks.” _

_ “No fretting over it now. We’ve still got a few months before we have to make a decision.” _

_ “You’re right. Stay with me?” _

_ Soul chuckled, pulling her in closer. “So needy.” _

_ She snuggled into his chest. “Then don’t act like you want it so much.” _

_ “Whatever, Angel.” _

_ “And turn in your paperwork tomorrow!” _

_ “Yeah yeah. Quit nagging.” _

. . . . . . . . . .

“Maka?”

“He did bring it up,” Maka said shakily. “The night before we left for the mission. I didn’t realize…”

The group sat in silence for a bit. Kid cleared his throat, getting Maka's attention.

“Soul always put you first, you know,” he said softly.

Maka smiled sadly. “I know.”

Her father reached over and took her hand. “How are you holding up, pumpkin?”

Maka didn't know how to reply, so she didn't.

“So, what now?” she asked Kid instead.

Kid sighed heavily. “Now, we agree to the Evans’s terms. Soul is to head to the family home tomorrow. However, I was able to have them agree on a few of our terms.”

“Oh?”

“Due to Soul’s status as a Death Scythe, he’s in a more vulnerable position than before. Being away from the DWMA equals less protection. We will have some of our staff guarding their house, with Sid, Nygus, and Azusa heading it from here. I’ll be contacting Eruka and the Mizune sisters as well for their help within the house.”

_ He'll be safe, then,  _ Maka thought. It was a shit compromise, but it was better than nothing.

“Will I be able to see him?” she asked.

“Unlikely. They won't be telling Soul anything about him being a Death Weapon, or so it seems.”

Maka frowned. “Why not?”

“Convenience, most likely,” said the doctor. “There's a lot of memories Soul is missing, and filling him in could be overwhelming. Plus, if we're going by what the witch you fought said, the amnesia is temporary.”

“So what, we're going to sit here and hope he remembers something? Is that the best we can do?”

“That's what we agreed on,” answered Kid.

A pause. “You look tired, Maka. I know that this is hard on you, but maybe you should try to get some rest. We still need you.”

Maka turned away, lips drawn into a tight line. “What good is a meister without a weapon?”

“A good meister will listen and go rest,” said Spirit. “For her Papa's sake.”

There was a long silence as Maka worked her way through her emotions. She wasn't comfortable with the idea of Soul leaving, but at least Eruka and the Mizune sisters would be there. If Azusa was heading the operation, he'd be safe.

It was odd. Maka expected herself to be crying, but instead she just felt empty. It was just her and her thoughts working through it, no emotions behind it.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Maka knew she had to trust her instincts. She had felt her partner’s soul back at the hospital.  She simply had to trust Kid’s judgement. “I’m going…home, then.”

How it tasted like ash, the word ‘home’. Only, it didn’t feel like home anymore. Not without Soul. But Blair would be there, and Tsubaki promised to come by soon for moral support, though she claimed it'd be just a visit. And she had laundry to do.

Kid frowned. “Are you sure.”

Maka nodded. “Let's just get Soul back soon, okay?”

It didn't take long for their meeting to end. Maka left first, barely giving a waiting Liz a wave. Spirit and Stein soon followed. Once they were all gone, Liz entered Kid's office to find the shinigami slumped on the table. Patty came in a few moment later.

“Everyone left,” the younger Thompson chirped.

“Thank you for the update, Patty.”

“I take it negotiations didn't go well?” asked Liz.

“I'll tell you about the terms later,” said Kid. “Is she alright?”

“You asking me because I'm a girl, or a human?”

“As a friend, Liz.”

Liz shrugged. “Hope so. She's pretty hurt by it all. She's just good at hiding it.”

Kid groaned again. “Great.”

“You know, Patty and I never say anything super sentimental like this. Mostly because we don’t want to dwell on it. But I’ve always wanted to believe that partnerships are meant to last a lifetime.” She looked down at Kid. “What if this one won’t?”

Kid wasn’t sure what to say. Silence wasn’t going to make anyone feel better, though. What would Maka say in this circumstance?  She was always so good at staying confident.

He sat up and straightened his suit. “We just have to trust in Soul’s recovery.  We have to believe in him, and in Maka’s faith.”

“Then let’s hope Maka’s right,” Liz assured. 

. . . . . . . . . .

It was a school day, but Maka couldn’t bring herself to leave the house today. Blair had obviously been worried, circling Maka for half of the morning. She eventually gave up, now in preparation to leave the apartment.

“Maka, I have to go to work,” she said, her tone cautious and caring. When she didn’t get a reply from the meister, Blair added, “There’s some fish in the frypan from my breakfast. Make sure you eat something.” 

In times like this, Blair carried such a nurturing instinct, a motherly one at that. Still, Soul was gone. As of this morning, Soul was on a plane and left Death City for an unknown amount of time. The inevitable had happened. He left, and it wasn’t even his fault. No, it was hers. For letting this happen. For not being able to protect him. For not communicating when they did to make sure his enrollment was sealed, to make sure they would always be together.

_ He promised me he wouldn’t leave,  _ Maka couldn’t help but think.  _ He promised. Should I go to him? Will they let me? _

The thoughts began to consume her. What if this? What if that? Shoulda, coulda, woulda, all the pointless things that couldn’t be fixed now, the things that would just bring her down even more. She knew she needed to have a better attitude, but was immediately interrupted by an unexpected knocking on the door.  Could it be Soul?! No, memories like that couldn’t possibly be regained overnight.

The meister creaked the door of their now empty-feeling apartment to peep at who the unwanted company was.

“Papa?” Maka opened the door a bit more. “Blair isn’t here right now.”

“I’m not here to see Blair.” Spirit hesitated. “Can I come in?”

Maka frowned. “Are you planning to stay long?”

That was as good as a 'no’ in her book. Spirit sighed.

“There’s someone here to see you. He ran into me on the way down from the school, so I brought him here.”

Maka looked over Spirit’s shoulder, but there was no one there. She crossed her arms a bit.

“Here being?”

“The coffee shop down the street.” Spirit rubbed the back of his neck. “I told him you’d come. It concerns Soul.”

Hearing her partner’s name brought the taste of bile into her mouth. Maka swallowed it down.

“Will it be worth it?”

“I don’t think you’ll hear something you don’t want to,” said Spirit’s reply.

While Maka pondered, her father nodded. “Well, I have to report back to work. Lunch break is only so long. I’ll see you around, Maka. And please, go see that visitor.”

“You’ll be late, Papa.”

“Kid’ll understand. And I can call him explaining the situation, of course.”

“Of course.”

Spirit seemed conflicted, but he leaned down and kissed Maka on her forehead like he used to when she was a little girl.

“Stay strong, Maka. Know that Papa’s here if you need him.”

Maka bit her lip and turned away. She was tired of looking so weak in front of her father. Spirit, thankfully, understood. He gave her head one last pat before departing.

Maka stood in the doorway, conflicted. On one hand, she didn’t want to go outside today. The sunny desert sky seemed to be mocking her cloudy mood. On the other hand, her dad did go through all the trouble to get this mysterious person to wait for her. Maybe it would be worth it.

“I won’t hear anything I don’t want to, huh?” she scoffed. “Alright Papa, let’s hope for your sake you’re right.”

. . . . . . . . . .

The café was a small, and relatively new place. It had an outdoor terrace area that was appealing to many people, and was built right on the corner of a relatively busy intersection. Maka stood at the crosswalk, wondering who it was that her father was so desperate for her to meet, when she sensed something familiar. A flash of blue. But no, this one was different. It was a bit darker than her partners, and steadier by nature. Mature.

Maka saw a shock of silver-white hair from across the street. The man whose hair it was was watching her from his seat at the café. He beckoned her over as the light turned.

Though the two had never met in person, Maka was positive she knew who this man was. She sat across from him at the table.

“You’re Soul’s older brother, aren’t you?” she asked.

The man smiled. “Did our similar, dashing good looks give it away?”

Maka blinked. “Oh. Yes, I see the resemblance now. I just meant that you two share very similar wavelengths. I could feel the resemblance there as well.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

Maka cleared her throat. “I’m Maka Albarn, two-star Scythe Meister. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Evans.”

“Just Wes will do.” He shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Maka. Soul told me a lot about you in his letters. However, his descriptions haven’t done justice on describing your beauty. He’s always been lazy about telling me about his life, anyway.”

Maka couldn’t help but sputter a bit. Soul said she was beautiful? He said it in a letter to his brother enough for Wes to mention it to her here?! Granted, she knew he thought so—he’d become more generous with his compliments after they started dating, praising her between cuddles and kisses—but Maka hadn’t expected him to say those things to anyone else.

“Have you eaten?” Wes asked. “I could get you lunch.”

Maka opened her mouth to protest, but her stomach betrayed her with a growl. Wes just laughed a bit and waved a nearby waiter over.

“Could I get a refill on my coffee please?”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter turned to Maka. “And for you, miss?”

Maka quickly scanned the menu. “The caprese salad, and a milk tea please.”

“Make that two caprese salads and the eggplant sandwich to split, thanks.”

As the waiter departed, Wes turned back to Maka. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue like this. You hardly deserve this.”

“No one deserved it,” Maka stated.

“That’s fair.” Wes had a pensive look on his face. “I’m sure this whole fiasco is causing quite a stir at the DWMA as well. It’s on the news.

“Not Soul specifically,” Wes clarified at Maka’s surprised expression. “But Lord Death has been on television recently to speak on behalf of the academy on the current situation of the alliance and the school’s aims. It wasn’t well received, unfortunately.”

Maka frowned. She had no idea that was the case.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Enrollment has been down. Incidents have been up in return. Parents don’t want to send their students to train for this, especially those who are weapons if there’s no hope of receiving the honor of being a Death Scythe.”

“How have they taken the recent mission’s lack of success?”

“It’s been kept under wraps from what I’ve gathered. Lord Death hasn’t given an official statement on the matter, so it feels more like rumors than anything. Even the students at the school have heard that Soul’s currently on leave for a solo mission.”

Maka was surprised by that. How had she not been aware of this?

The waiter returned with their drinks. “Your food will be out shortly. Can I interest you in anything else?”

“Thank you,” said Wes. “That’ll be all.”

Maka took a long sip of tea, sighing at its warmth. She realized that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink yet. It was a welcome relief for her stomach.

“So?” she finally asked. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“My brother.”

His words made Maka stop mid-sip. She set her tea down. Of course he wanted to talk about Soul. Papa had even said so. Why else would he have come?

“I wanted to let you know I’m opposed to my parents taking him back.”

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Maka frowned. “Wait, you are? Why?”

“Because the whole situation—for a lack of better word—is fucked up. Soul’s amnesia is one thing, but taking him away from the people who know him best is downright absurd. I would’ve much rather he reached out to us first. Not to mention Soul never wanted to stay with the family. He was miserable there, and he saw his weapon form as a ticket out.”

Maka’s eyes opened wide at that. She knew Soul loved being a weapon, and he used to mention how cool it was (despite simultaneously saying he was just a common scythe), but he never talked in depth about his family.

“He never mentioned that to me,” said Maka.

“He only ever told me,” said Wes, “and only because I would sit and listen.”

Maka pondered this new information. It made sense, thinking over it. Soul was always like that. He avoided talking about everyone who wasn’t his brother or his grandmother, and even then the information Maka had on the two was very limited.

“Why did you come to tell me you’re opposed to your parents? Wouldn’t that be something you handle yourself?”

The man sighed. “If only it were that easy…”

They were interrupted once again by their food. Maka couldn’t help but immediately start eating. She was a meister, even if she was on leave. It took a lot of food to fuel her high metabolism.

Wes picked a bit at the mozzarella on his plate.

“I wouldn’t dare defy my parents. They’re the ones holding guardianship of him, and they’ve made terms quite clear” he said. “Besides, I have my own life to take care of. I’m a musician, I have a fiancée of my own. We’re not in a position where I can comfortably take in my little eighteen-but-also-twelve-year-old brother.”

Wes did have a fair point. Maka nodded.

“So why even bother telling me all this?” she asked. “We’ve already been forced to accept that Soul is going to Connecticut. He’s not coming back unless something happens in the favor of the DWMA, which is either that he remembers something about being a weapon or Echo launches an attack against him.”

“I was getting to that.” Wes took a sip of coffee. “I’d like you to help him remember.”

“You would?”

Wes nodded. “Soul mentioned in passing his future plans when I brought it up to him the other day. You know, every single one of those plans involved you. For both of you to lose such a relationship is hard to be okay with.”

Maka blushed. It wasn’t the only time she’d heard him say her name in such a doting way, but to hear it again reminded her of all the things she loved about him. It reminded her of how he trusted his entirety to her and her only and how it must have taken a lot of strength and confidence in their connections to say something to West, to  _ Wes  _ of all people. 

"Soul’ll probably back at the family home soon,” Wes interjected. “I’ll call him and see how he’s settling in. And I’ll keep you posted.”

Maka’s silent, but thankful gaze spoke alone, an uncertainty of how to express the emotions running through her. Before she could answer, though, Wes made an unexpected offer. 

“Is there anything you want me to bring to him?”

“Hm?” Maka couldn’t help but to wonder if his parents would be alright with that, given the terms and restrictions they’d constructed.

Wes shrugged. “Well, I’m flying home for a bit to help him settle in, with my fiancée’s permission. So if there’s anything you want me to bring him, I can do that.”

If Wes was offering, though, perhaps it’d be okay, though. “How much longer will you be in Death City?”

Wes checked his watch. “My flight’s in four hours.”

“Why don’t you come by, then?” said Maka. “Check his room and see if there’s anything you can- or want- to take before you leave.”

Wes looked at Maka with a hint of question. “Are you sure?”

“Please. My treat.” Besides, why not? Soul deserved to have  _ some  _ of his stuff, or the bit his parents might allow. And maybe having company for even a few minutes could soothe her, make it feel a  _ little bit _ like Soul was there.

. . . . . . . . . . 

Guiding Wes to the building, she turned to Wes in inquisition.“Stairs okay?” The elevator was tempting, but a meister like her still needed to stay in shape.

Wes just gestured her to continue. “Lead the way.”

The two made their way up the stairs to the fifth floor. Maka unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Come in. And please don’t mind, I haven’t really cleaned up.”

“Cleaner than my place, and I hire a maid,” Wes said. He looked around and nodded. “It’s a nice place. Have you guys been living here this whole time?”

“Yeah.” Maka immediately resolved to lead Wes to his brother’s belongings. Beside’s, he was on limited time and she didn’t want to waste it. “Here, I’ll show you his room. Look around as much as you want. Or… if you see anything on the way, too.”

A short stride down the hall, and they arrived. Wes surveyed the room. It was a small one, but comfortable. Soul’s bed was on the far wall, a queen size that took up a large portion of it. His desk was next to the bed, surprisingly tidy. Shelves lined one wall, filled with music books and pictures. There was also a dresser and closet.

“Cozy,” he said. “Didn’t realize he liked having such a large bed.”

“Well, it’s technically his room, but…” Maka blushed a bit. “We share the bed.”

“Ah.”

The two were silent for a second. Wes chuckled a bit. “If it helps, I’m not judging,” he added.

Maka just blushed more, looking around the room. “Well, there should be some things he’ll want! Your parents already got him all new clothes, but I was thinking maybe a few photos and his guitar.”

Surprise lit Wes’s eyes. “I didn’t realize he picked up the guitar.”

“Just a bit,” said Maka, shrugging. “He still prefers piano, despite everything.”

“I’m actually surprised by that.”

“So was I, at first.” Maka smiled softly. “But music is a part of him. Cutting that off is like saying he wasn’t born an Evans.”

Wes observed Maka’s wistful expression. He frowned a bit, but said nothing. Instead, Wes stood by the desk. He noticed a photo in a frame.

It was obviously in the midst of a celebration. Soul and Maka were sitting side by side on a set of stairs. Soul’s leg was a piano, his hands lifted slightly off the keys as if he was distracted mid-tune. And it made sense, considering the way he was smiling up at Maka in the photo, who was on her feet smiling down at him as if he was the only thing that existed in the world.

It was a nice picture.

Wes considered it for a second before pocketing it, frame and all.

He turned to see Maka watching him now. She cocked her head to one side.

“You want to take that?”

“If you don’t mind.” Wes smiled as he gazed at it again. That was his brother’s true happiness.

“Not at all. Would you like something to drink before you leave?” The least Maka could do was offer a bit of courtesy for his flight.

“Tea would be nice, yes.”

A pleasant and ironic request.  Tea was Maka’s specialty!  And maybe partially Soul’s, since he was always the one who made it for her when she… No, no, she couldn’t let her thoughts dwell there, not now, in the presence of company. 

“Sit wherever you’d like.” Maka gestured towards the open living space and made her way to the kitchen, digging around the cupboards. “Any preference? I have black tea, green tea, some other random Japanese stuff. And there’s cake in the fridge.”

“I’ll try ‘some other random Japanese stuff’ if you don’t mind.”

So it seemed that Wes had joking nature similar to his brother's. No wonder Soul would say everyone adored Wes. Maka had to admit, it was enjoyable talking to him as he curiously shot questions her way, about Soul, about their life, about  _ them _ . His brother cared about him a lot.

Just as Wes finished his cup of tea, though, he’d admitted his flight was soon. “Sorry to leave so soon, but the pilot’s not going to wait just for me. It was a pleasure stopping by!”

Maka smiled warmly as much as she could. “Same…”

Reluctant as it was to admit, it felt better having someone related to her partner there. “Here, don’t forget to take these then. I know Soul will appreciate it.”

Maka picked up the guitar case and a photo album. She threw in a few of their letters as well, just stupid things Soul occasionally passed to her when they first began dating. They were all in poorly-written Japanese that had obviously been taken from a bad translation website. That, or Black*Star was pranking him. There was no way Soul could remember what they said, but it was still funny to look at his doodles in the margins.

“And… thanks. This means more to me, or that is… more to Soul than you realize.”

“Of course! Thank  _ you  _ for all you’ve done. Take care, Maka.” 

Just like that, he was out the door, rushing to make his way back to the Evan’s home. More pieces of Soul gone from the apartment. Or perhaps less left to remind her of what was taken away.

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul woke up with a jolt. He blinked a few times, disoriented. His father was smiling from next to him, a hand on his son’s arm. He was shaking him gently.

“Sorry for waking you, son. We’re almost there.”

Soul gazed out of the window, eyes still heavy from sleep and the light blinding him to a squint. He recognized the road. Several of the prestigious neighbors kept their large homes as maintained just as he’d remembered. Only a few now had elaborate play areas on the lawn, a reminder of how much time had passed. Others had larger gardens and more fountains and accessories than he recalled as well. But it still carried the same air, the same rich, elegant, and poised feeling. It made Soul wonder just how much of his own home had changed.

The entire way, his eyes couldn’t help but to look at each and every alteration until they arrived at the house he grew up in. Despite the additions to the walkway, now garnished in expensive stone, most of it was still familiar. Tall calendric pillars lined the front entrance, holding up what was still the balcony of the second floor and the brick walls were mildly touched up, keeping the fresh clean look his parents always insisted on. Nothing withered or brushed in old antique here.

Walking in, though, felt no different than his childhood years. Soul knew his way around the winding halls easily. He also felt an immediate pang of expectation, of necessity to hold a certain level of… accomplishment. This was all he knew, though. 

“Well, we’ll let you get settled in,” Mrs. Evans said, noticing Soul’s exhaustion.

“Thanks Mother,” Soul said, nodding to her. “Father.”

His parents both smiled nervously. It made Soul feel about sixteen times worse. He’d offered to carry his own suitcase upstairs, but they insisted on the maid to help. This did not ease the discomfort in any bit.  Why, though? Certainly he was supposed to be used to having hand-on-foot help. And yet on an unrecognized instinct, he wanted to carry his own things.

Going into his old bedroom, he knew it, too. Rummaging through one of the dresser drawers, he found a fresh (and seemingly new) set of pajamas. Shrugging off the fact that his parents probably arrange for them to be there (and supposing he would need them anyway, thanks to his height difference now), he threw them on sloppily and fell on the bed, eyelids falling closed as soon as his head touched the pillow.

An unknown voice made presence in his slumber, though. Was it a hallucination? A side effect of the damage from the accident? He was announced medically cleared for release! Or perhaps he was just  _ that  _ exhausted?

_ “Soul.” _

Where was that voice coming from? Soul looked around, but it was dark. So dark.

_ “I know you’re asleep, but I hope you can hear me.” _

“Who are you?” he called. “I can hear you.”

_ “I’m waiting for you right here.” _

Where was here? Soul wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling it wasn’t where he was right now. Maybe there would be a light to follow, or an arrow, or something? Anything, really.

_ “We all are. So wake up when you’re ready.” _

Wake up? He was asleep right now.

It actually made sense. The pins and needles feeling of a hundred spindly legs running across his bare skin made it ignite with goosebumps. Soul swallowed, nervous. A bit afraid. He had to get out, he had to make it to that voice. Something told him it was more important than anything else.

_ “I’ll be here for you.” _

She would be. He knew it was true.

_ “I’ll always be here.” _

“Wake up, dammit!” he screamed at himself.

Soul jolted up, body covered in cold sweat. The digital clock beside his bed told him it was only 10pm. He groaned and drew an arm over his eyes.

What was that dream?

. . . . . . . . . .

At that moment, over 2,000 miles away, Maka Albarn woke up from her nap with a gasp. Strange, she thought she’d heard answers to a conversation she’d already had, an important one. 

Blair padded into the room softly, concern written on her face.

“Maka, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Blair. Thank you for checking.”

“Of course. Just let Bu-tan know if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” 

It wasn’t much, but just for a moment there she had felt that presence more strongly than ever. She knew it: he was in there somewhere. The connection was still there. 

“Soul?” she called out in a whisper, once Blair was out of sight. 

In silence, she waited to see if he could still hear her, if she would get another answer, but to no avail. Sighing in defeat, Maka lay back down in bed.

Of course he couldn't hear her. He was in Connecticut. But still, perhaps this was a sign?

_ I'll ask Kid about it tomorrow,  _ Maka decided as she rolled over and closed her eyes to call it a very early night.


	6. Language Barrier

_ “J’ai sûr—” _

“ _ Je suis sûr, _ young master.”

_ “Je suis sûr,” _ Soul repeated.  _ “Je suis sûr que...que, non—qu’il y a des...sœurs dans le maison.” _

_ “Des sœurs?” _

Soul sighed and admitted defeat. “Mice. There are mice in the house.”

“ _ Des souris, _ young master,” the French instructor corrected. He pinched the bridge of his nose after a second. “Perhaps we should stop here today.”

Soul nodded in agreement, trying not to look too eager.

“ _ Hônettement,  _ young master, I find it very hard to believe you’ve been continuing your language studies these last few years.”

Caught between making a sarcastic comment and leaving in a fit, Soul bit it back and instead said, “I’m sorry, sir. It must be part of the amnesia.”

At least his instructor’s expression softened. “Yes, it is possible. Well, if I remember correctly you have a piano lesson in an hour. Let us work on the  _ passé composé  _ for Thursday.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Soul left the French lesson feeling shittier by the second. Already three weeks had passed since he returned to the Evans’ estate, and it was slowly turning into an amnesia nightmare. His mother, determined to help her son catch up, was requiring him to take hours of remedial lessons in all the classes he supposedly took when enrolled at Joseph’s, the private school in Pennsylvania. However, things weren't going well at all.

All because of a dumb motor accident in Death City.

_ Maybe I skipped class a lot,  _ Soul thought.  _ Or maybe this amnesia is worse than I thought? _

Something about that didn't seem right though. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was some important nugget of information being held from him.

Soul didn’t realize he was in the foyer until a group of voices broke his train of thought. They looked like a bunch of Asian artisans. No doubt his mother ordered something from overseas.

They weren’t speaking English. Soul shrugged, and was about to leave when he heard them.

_ “Damn, ‘m tired!” _

_ “It’s just a little more. After finishing this we can go get a drink!” _

Soul froze. How? How did he understand them when he’d just struggled through his entire French lesson?

Soul whipped around as the two men walked by.

“Um, excuse me.”

The two men turned. One was young, while the other was considerably older. An  _ oyagata _ and his trainee, it seemed. Soul wasn’t sure where he’d gotten that word from, but it felt right.

“Oh,” said the old man. “Forgive our rudeness. That was very unprofessional of us.”

“It’s okay,” replied Soul. “I just was wondering, what language do you speak?”

“Japanese,” the old man said with a laugh. “You are speaking it too,  _ obocchan _ .”

_ I am?  _ thought Soul.

“Let’s go,” the younger man whined, in English. “We’re almost done.”

The oyagata replied in Japanese.  _ “Damarinasai! Saigo no Desu Saizu no maede sonna shiturei na—” _

_ Saigo no Desu Saizu? _

Suddenly there was a sharp pain his head. He groaned, falling to his knees and he held his head.

He had no idea what those words meant, but there were images flashing through his head.

_ A square full of people. _

_ A friend announcing his name to the crowd. _

_ A song in G. _

_ A hug. _

“...Soul? Soul! Soul, come to now.”

_ “Soul? Wake up.” _

Soul sat up with a gasp. He was staring up at the ceiling, his mother, the traders, and a couple of maids hovering over him. Did he faint?

Groaning, Soul sat up. Giovanna laughed a bit, relieved.

“Goodness Soul, you gave us all a fright.”

“Sorry, Mother,” he said automatically. “I dunno what came over me.”

Giovanna’s smile was tight. “Maybe you should rest for today. Your father and I have made your coursework quite rigorous so you can still make it to college, but maybe we were a bit hasty. We'll cut it back a bit.”

“That'd be nice, yeah.”

Mrs. Evans turned to the traders. “Thank you for calling us over. I'm sorry we've caused this trouble.”

“It was no trouble,” the  _ oyagata  _ said, smiling. “We hope he rests and studies Japanese even harder when he's feeling better.”

Giovanna’s face fell. “I beg your pardon?”

The trader, unaware of the shift, continued to smile. “Your son’s Japanese is very good.”

“You must be mistaken,” said Mrs. Evans. “I wasn’t aware Soul had been studying languages other than French, Latin, and Italian at school.”

Something about her tone was very dismissive. Soul kept his mouth shut as the two men bowed.

Little did they know that a group of small mice had been watching the entire interaction. They all exchanged a look before scurrying into the walls and through the tunnels out the house. Once they were a safe distance from the estate, they dropped their transformation.

Five little witches flew quickly and quietly to the little hideaway they'd set up behind the home in an old tool shed. They had a very important telegram to send to Death City.

. . . . . . . . . .

Eruka ran into the Death Room, panting slightly.

“I’ve gotten an update from the Mizune sisters,” she gasped.

“Good news, I hope,” said Kid, waving her over to take a seat.

Eruka plopped down gratefully. Kid took the telegram from her hand and read it.

“Oh? How interesting. I didn’t realize Soul knew any Japanese.”

Eruka, having caught some of her breath, nodded. “Quite a development for sure.”

“And a step in the right direction. It seems Soul may make a partial recovery at this point. I must send for Stein and Maka.” He stood. “Finally something to tell them both.”

“Especially his meister.”  A beaming smile erupted from Eruka as she realized the joy this would bring to the meister.

“Yes. Most of all, Maka,” Kid agreed.

“Geko. Shall I get them for you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll have someone else fetch them. What do you say Black*Star, Tsubaki?” Kid turned and smiled up at the guillotines leading into the Death Room.

Eruka gasped as the two practically materialized at the table, Black*Star sitting cross-legged and Tsubaki in seiza.

“Leave it to a shinigami to notice my bigness!”

“Your stealth skills have improved a lot, Black*Star. I almost didn’t notice you there.” Kid laughed a bit. “It’s like you’ve finally decided to try.”

Black*Star just scoffed a bit, but he was obviously pleased.

Tsubaki smiled at Kid. “Would you like us to get Maka-chan and Dr. Stein now?”

“That would be wonderful.”

And just as quickly as they'd come, they vanished. Kid calmly took a drink from his glass while Eruka blanched a bit. She was glad those two were here allies now. Death be merciful to those who crossed them.

. . . . . . . . . .

Maka wasn’t sure why she decided to start taking classes again, especially since she was more than qualified to graduate early. The constant flow of work was distracting, she supposed, and her final semester was full of extracurricular classes she hadn’t had a chance to take before. Entering exams near the end of the school year helped take her mind off things for sure. She and Ox—the only other student who was optionally taking extra classes—were still in the midst of their rivalry, though it was more for fun than anything.

The toll of the bell signified the end of the lesson. Maka sighed and put her books away. She hated to admit it, but her grades had slipped slightly ever since Soul left. Ox was kind enough not to say anything.

“Want to study later tonight?” he asked, turning around in his seat to look up at her. “I was thinking about going to the coffee shop close to campus.”

Maka forced a smile. “Thanks Ox, but I think I’ll turn in early today. We have that report due before the test.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s fair. Well please, let me know if you change your mind. It’s been a bit lonely these past few days…”

Maka frowned. “Oh? How so?”

Ox sighed. “It’s nothing much. It’s just that Harvar’s been debating which school he’s going to go to in the fall, and Kim’s been busy with Alliance work. I’ve just been stuck in the middle.”

“Aren’t you doing Alliance work too though?”

“Not as much as Kim. The witches trust her more since she’s a witch-turned-meister, rather than a meister in love with a witch.” Ox gave Maka a small smile. “It really tears me that I chose to stay at the DWMA after graduation instead of going on to college, but the heart chooses over the mind sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Maka replied, also smiling sadly. “I know what you mean, Ox.”

She paused for a second, watching the fellow meister pack up his bags. The slump to his shoulders was akin to her own. She never realized how much Ox was dealing with too. They really were quite similar outside of academic prowess, in some respects.

“Um say, Ox?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“You know what? I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Maka shrugged. “I don’t have plans this afternoon, and Blair won’t be home until late so I don’t have to worry about cooking. Where did you want to go?”

Ox perked up almost immediately. “Oh, it’s only a few blocks away! They opened a new patisserie a couple of weeks ago, and Jacqueline mentioned the chocolate torte was to die for! And there’s a really lovely study area near the back just for students, but since it’s new not many people have crowded it yet according to her.”

“Sounds good!”

Just then the classroom door slammed open. Black*Star stood in the doorway, Tsubaki close behind him. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on Maka.

“Oi, Maka!” he shouted as he marched towards her.

“What?” she asked, annoyed. “Listen, Black*Star, I have plans so make it quick.”

Black*Star grabbed Maka by the wrist and began pulling her away from Ox.

_ “Ore-sama to tsukiatte!” _

“Hah?!”

_ “Hora, ima sugu ikuzei!” _

_ “Ch-chotto, Black*Star. Yamero!” _ When he didn’t let go, she grabbed the nearest book. “MAKA CHOP!”

Black*Star let her go immediately, hands flying to the dent in his hair. “Ow, Maka, what the heck?!”

“That’s what I want to ask you!” Maka shouted, fuming. “What the hell was that, ‘Go out with me!’? You know I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Black*Star turned to Tsubaki. “Tell her that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s not what he meant, Maka-chan. Black*Star just needs to work on phrasing things better in Japanese, right? He wanted to you come with him.”

“Then say that in the first place, Black*Star!” Maka complained.

“Yeah yeah, I got it. But more importantly, Maka! Get a move on!”

Maka frowned. “Why?”

“You and Dr. Stein are wanted in the Death Room as soon as possible. Kid’s orders.”

It was unlike Kid to do things without planning them out. “What’s all this about?”

Black*Star grinned. “Trust me, you’ll wanna hear this.”

“Is it about Soul?”

“Don’t wanna blow it for you. It’s a surprise and all.”

Maka turned to Ox. “Ox, I’m really sorry about having to cancel so last minute.”

Ox smiled. “It’s fine, go on ahead. If it’s about Soul, then it’s important, right?”

“Rain cheque!” Maka called as she left the room.

Tsubaki was all calming vibes and smiles as they walked out.

“Black*Star, how about you get Dr. Stein? He should be in his office. I’ll walk with Maka-chan.”

“On it!”

He vanished. Tsubaki stayed behind as promised. “Ready, Maka-chan?”

Maka forced a smile. “Let's go.”

The two girls walked side by side down the hallway. Maka remained silent, so Tsubaki did her best to strike up a conversation.

“Glad to see your Japanese hasn’t gotten any worse.”

“It hasn’t gotten any better though,” said Maka with a groan. “Mama hasn’t been home in a long time, and Soul was the only person I ever tried to speak it with, even though he sucked.”

“But you’re only a quarter Japanese! It’s impressive you can speak it so well!”

“Black*Star used it all through childhood, and we were best friends even though Papa didn’t want us to be,” said Maka. “Said he was too rough.”

“To be fair, he never does play nice.”

“I’d be surprised if he did!”

“But considering the rest of your Japanese is self-taught before we became friends, that's really something. You shouldn't talk yourself down like that.”

Maka couldn't help but smile. “Thanks Tsubaki. You always know what to say.”

They entered the Death Room to find Black*Star and Dr. Stein already there with Kid, Liz, and Patty. Maka and Tsubaki sat at the table. Kid nodded to them.

“I’m glad you all could make it.”

“Why did you call us here on such short notice, Kid?” Liz asked.

Kid smiled brightly. “I received an update on Soul’s condition today.”

He was smiling, so that had to be good news, right? Maka did her best not to be too hopeful, but she leaned forward with anticipation.

“What changed?” Patty asked.

“Soul, it seems, understood a bit of Japanese. He held a small conversation with a few people in his home. According to the Mizune sisters, they were pottery artists sent there to deliver a gift to Giovanna Evans from her older son, Wes Evans.”

Maka's eyes widened a bit. She remembered telling Wes about Soul learning Japanese, and him agreeing to help out, but she didn't realize to what capacity.

_ I'll have to thank him for that later. _

“So what?” asked Black*Star. “He remembers a little bit of his shit Japanese. That's not getting him back here with us.”

Kid winced a bit at the wording, but forced his smile. Dr. Stein ended up answering the question.

“True, knowing Japanese has no correlation with being an excellent employee here, though our track records do show our Japanese speakers are also excellent meisters and weapons. However, this is solid proof that Soul is in fact remembering aspects of his life here. Something could trigger similar reactions that may get him to remember who he is.”

“So we need to expose him to more things from home?” Tsubaki asked.

Stein nodded. “That would help, yes.”

“But how?” Black*Star asked. “Last any of us checked, his parents don't want him contacting us, or vice versa. How do we get more of these triggers?”

Maka gasped. “Wes!”

Everyone turned to look at her. Maka seemed excited.

“The day Soul left, his older brother came by to visit me. He asked if there was anything of his he wanted me to give Soul at some point. Wes has some things: Soul's guitar, a photo album, and some letters. I could ask him to give them to Soul!”

Kid nodded. “That may be a good option, so long as it's kept hidden from the family.”

“Is his Japanese any good?” Stein asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

Maka couldn’t help herself. She snorted. Her shoulders shook a bit, and then she broke into a fit of giggles. Everyone stared. It had been over six weeks since they’d seen her smile so brightly, let alone laugh.

It took Maka a bit to steel herself again. After gaining her composure, she shook her head.

“No! Soul was so good at mixing up words. He once said the dinner was funny instead of saying it was good. Then he tried to correct himself by saying the dinner was peeing itself!”

Black*Star choked on his own spit, and Tsubaki covered her mouth with a hand.

Stein's face was impassive, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Okay, so maybe pursuing in Japanese isn't the best of ideas. We'll hope Wes can help us out then.”

They talked for a bit more before departing. Maka had a spring to her step she'd all but lost in the last couple of months.

Soul was remembering something. It wasn't a lot, and it wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

_ I'm still waiting for you here, Soul. So come home soon. _

Maka was about to head home when she noticed the new cafe Ox was talking about. She paused for a split second before entering and heading to the back where the other meister was sitting.

“Hey,” she said. “Is this seat taken?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Translation Notes: To say "come with me" and "date me" can be the same phrase in Japanese (as there are numerous different ways to say both), but it's all context-based. Maka obviously heard Black*Star wrong haha!


	7. A Girl Named "Angel"

Soul growled in frustration as he closed yet another tab on his family’s computer. Turns out being able to speak and understand a bit of Japanese didn’t mean he could read any of it. After flipping through a few books in the library, he realized the internet was a lot more reliable than he’d remembered. That, and he couldn’t read the books. So Soul went online.

He tried searching basic Japanese writing, only to discover that there were three symbol alphabet thingies.

Soul was able to finally type out what he thought he’d heard: さいごんですさいず

It was probably wrong, but it was worth a shot.

A good several thousand search results came up, but it was overwhelming. He’d found a promising-looking lead which turned out to be a newspaper article online. A few pictures were obviously taken from some distance, as it showed a large celebration in some city with a strange-looking castle sitting in the middle of a desert. Death City, perhaps? Soul figured out it was dated to about four years ago, but that was it.

His stomach conveniently growled. Soul checked the time and saw it was well past lunch. He still had time before his three o'clock appointment, so he decided to sneak down to the kitchens like he did back when he was a kid.

It was almost like a game to sneak by the staff the further downward he travelled. Soul felt giddy, remembering the best places to duck and hide as people passed. He even gave himself a mental pat on the back when he made it to the door that lead to the kitchen.

Opening the doors led to a world of chaos.

The kitchens were almost always a busy place, especially now since preparations for teatime and dinner, as well as washing up everything for lunch.

“Um, Missus Patmore?”

The cook looked up. Upon seeing the young Evans she barked a couple of orders to the other cooks to pick up where she left off before drying her hands on her apron. She immediately came over to Soul and pinched him on the cheek, laughing heartily.

“Well, if it isn’t the young master himself! Haven’t seen you in a long while, not since you went off to that fancy school of yours on the other side of the country! Five years too long, I tell ya! My, you’ve grown up to be quite a handsome lad too!”

Soul blushed a bit, but he smiled. Jenny Patmore never treated him badly. He often snuck down here as a young boy to steal samples and ‘help’ in the kitchen.

“Checking for poison? Atta boy!” she’d always say.

There were more grey hairs around her temple, but her smile and flaming red hair were the same as ever.

“So what brings you down to the kitchen, young master? Let me guess, you forgot to eat lunch.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“It is considering I made your chicken pot pie and it came back down here cold and untouched.”

Soul winced, feeling guilty. “I'm sorry, I lost track of the time studying. Say, you wouldn't still happen to have that old pie sitting around, would you? It'd be an awful shame to let your heavenly cooking go to waste.”

“Cheeky boy,” the cook said, but pointed towards the fridge. “Just pop it in the oven for fifteen minutes or so. It's already preheated.”

“You're the best cook in the house, Missus!”

“I'm the only one. Flattery gets you nowhere with me.”

That was a blatant lie and they both knew it.

Soul leaned against the oven and looked around the kitchen. Aside from Missus Patmore, the rest of the staff had changed. She was obviously still taking trainees every year. The two young women and one young man were busying themselves with their own work, giving Soul some time to think.

The weird dreams were getting more and more frequent the longer he was home. Paired now with the occurrence of understanding Japanese, Soul was positive that his parents were hiding something from him. Why wouldn't they say he knew Japanese? Was there a point hiding that? His other languages were not great, granted, but knowing Japanese had to be a good thing, right?

“Soul?”

“Hm?” Soul looked up to find a heated pot pie in front of him. “Oh. Sorry, was lost in thought.”

“I could tell,” Missus Patmore said with a chuckle. “So what's on your mind, Soul? Seems like something is really bothering you.”

Soul just shrugged, digging in. He kept silent, still mulling over everything. Luckily, his older brother was popping in for a short visit between concerts today. Maybe  _ he  _ would have some answers.

As he munched away on his lunch, Soul remembered his sudden cravings from the first night home.

“Hey, Missus Patmore?”

“Yes?”

“Well…” Soul kicked at the ground a bit. “I was wondering if you could try making a Japanese dish for me.”

“Japanese, huh?” Mrs. Patmore was thoughtful. “Not really my strong suit, but I’ll give it a whirl. Got a dish in mind?”

“Curry rice.”

“Japanese style curry? Bit of an odd one, isn't it? What made you want this so sudden like?”

“I don’t know why. I was eating dinner the other night and I just remembered something about someone burning curry rice. I’m not sure where that thought came from, but I’ve been thinking about it and now I guess I want to eat it?”

Missus Patmore laughed. “Well, say no more! I suppose I could whip up summik like that. Won’t be perfect though.”

“I’m sure it’ll taste fine,” Soul insisted.

Missus Patmore just smiled, gesturing at his plate. “You done with that? Just put it in the sink.”

“I'll wash it,” he said without thinking, then frowned.

Missus Patmore obviously had the same thought as she began laughing. “An Evans washing dishes? What an image!”

Soul placed the dishes in the sink, fighting the urge to do it himself. He turned away to watch the cook rummage through the pantry for ingredients.

“You're in luck! We have curry powder and rice, so I can make that for you tonight. Harry! Grab the leftover beef for the curry! The one we didn't use for the Beef Wellington, yes!” 

“Can I help?” asked Soul.

The cook was grinning. “You know you’re always allowed to ‘help’ while I’m in charge ‘round here. Just make sure you don’t take too many poison tests.” They both laughed. Missus Patmore shoved Soul towards the sink. “Now you know the drill. No workin’ for me—”

“—until you’ve washed the sin from your hands,” Soul finished. “Yeah, I do remember that.”

“Good. This old girl would’ve been heartbroken if you’d forgotten.”

Soul hummed as he washed his hands diligently. He saw his old apron was still hung on the hook nearby, but he’d obviously outgrown it. Oh well. Hopefully his adult body was better at keeping messes off of him than when he was twelve. Soul rolled up his sleeves and returned to the cutting board.

The cook had laid out a few potatoes, some carrots, two large onions, and a slab of beef. The vegetables were thankfully peeled. Soul glanced at the knife also laid next to them. He suddenly felt a particular urge to slice them as if it was his given duty.

“I’ll cut them.”

“Mind yourself,” warned Missus Patmore. “You remember what happened last time I let you use a knife.”

“That was years ago! Besides,” Soul added, giving her a cheeky grin, “I’m eighteen now. A full-fledged adult. I’m sure I can beat a few carrots.”

“Don’t complain to me when you lose a finger then.”

Missus Patmore was shaking her head and laughing. That was a good sign. Soul turned to the cutting board, already thinking up witty comebacks to his impending failure.

Only, it never came.

As if by magic, Soul began to cut the carrots and potatoes with a fluid motion that would’ve taken years to develop. The strange yet familiar sensation of having done this many times before continued as he easily sliced the onion, then the meat into roughly equal sized chunks.

“Well I’ll be,” said the cook. “Where d’ya learn to cut them foods like that?”

When  _ had _ he learned to cut vegetables like that?

Soul rubbed at his aching temple, frowning.

“I wonder what they taught you at that fancy school of yours? Nothing a proper gentleman like yourself be needing, that’s for sure!” She patted Soul on his stiff shoulder. “Best be keeping this a secret from your parents. They won’t take kindly to hearing about it.”

“Why not?” Soul asked, but he was being shooed out of the kitchen.

“Your curry will be up in time for dinner tonight, no worries! Now, go study. I heard the maids gossipin’ about your Italian lessons yesterday.”

Groaning, Soul admitted defeat and left. The sensation that something was being kept from him didn’t go away, however.

He could cut vegetables. He could maybe wash dishes. He could speak a little Japanese. The only thing that hadn't changed was that he was able to play the piano and read music books.

Soul stopped. He couldn’t help but think back to the dreams he’d had. The young woman—Angel, he’d called her—who was she? Soul only knew a few snippets of information about her. They were close, she spoke Japanese, her hair was soft, and she had a strange warmth that seemed to touch his very being. Was she real? Someone he’d once known?

_ Or is she just a figment of my imagination? _

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Soul left the hallway and entered the library. One glance at the frustration he'd left strewn around the computer put him in a sour mood. Soul walked out of the room immediately.

_ Angel… Angel… Angel… _

Something about that name felt off. Like it didn’t seem completely real. A petname, perhaps? Either way it bothered him. Soul began to feel lightheaded again.

His feet brought him back to the music room.

Soul stared at the piano.

The tugging sensation in his chest swelled to a crescendo. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears. Soul's feet took him to the piano. He lifted the fingerboard as the pounding continued. His fingers were shaking as his hand came closer and closer to the keys.

He pressed a single key.

G.

_ A song in G. _

Why did that note make his heart ache so?

Suddenly, his headache came back in full force. Soul grit his teeth and gripped his hair, a grunt escaping his lips. Every time. There had to be a reason why he was having headaches whenever he felt these pangs of nostalgia.

“Am I trying to remember?” he asked to no one. “Cuz if so, can you do it in a less painful way?”

After another minute of agony, the pain subsided to nothing more than a deep throbbing. Soul stood up, gasping.

_ It’s gotta be about my head injury,  _ Soul thought.  _ There’s no other explanation. Maybe I can tell Mom and Dad about it later today. _

Soul checked the time. It was almost two. He should probably head out if he wanted to walk down to town. Something about having the family chauffeur drive him pissed Soul off.

_ Wish I could just ride my bike down,  _ his mind spat as he walked towards the front door.

Soul stopped again. He didn't own a motorbike, did he? Or did he before? He'd always wanted one, but…

“I'll ask Wes,” he decided, walking out the side door and down the wooded path to town.

. . . . . . . . . .

“Hey, Wes?”

“Hm?”

“In those letters I sent you, y’know, before… Did I ever mention someone named Angel? Like, a friend or something?”

Wes looked at his brother intently. So it seemed he was remembering something. However, ‘Angel’ wasn’t a name he was familiar with.

“I don’t think you have,” Wes said. “At least, not anyone by that name.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Could be a nickname.”

“Yeah, could be.”

Wes set down his coffee. “Is there something bothering you about it?”

He waited as Soul took a few moments to gather his thoughts.

“It’s just… I’ve been having these really weird dreams. And they’re probably just dreams, but I can’t help but feel like they’re real. Like maybe—and just maybe, mind you—they might be some of my lost memories.”

“I’m guessing there’s something that makes you think they’re not?”

The younger sighed. “Some of those dreams are whack. Like, I had one where me and a bunch of guys were the opposite gender. Who even has dreams like that?”

“Other guys?” Wes interrupted.

Soul blinked. “Yeah, um… how should I say this? I don’t know their names, and once I wake up I forget all their faces, but there’s this lingering feeling. It’s kinda warm, I guess? Right about here.”

He placed a hand over the center of his chest. Soul was wearing an uncharacteristically soft smile.

“It’s like I feel they’re my friends. But it’s not in my heart or my head, more like—”

“—your soul?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, then laughed. “God, that sounds cheesy.”

Wes shrugged. “Maybe there’s more there than meets the eye. Like how they say meisters are able to see and feel the presence of souls.”

Soul laughed. “Yeah right! As if I’m a meister, swinging weapons around and fighting evil!”

“You’re right. That sounds ridiculous, imagining you with a sword in your hands.”

“Hey!”

Wes just laughed as Soul growled a bit in his direction. Even if his little brother had the body of an adult, it was obvious he hadn’t grown up one bit. Perhaps he’d be a different person once his memories came back. For the time being, however, Wes enjoyed this animated side of Soul. It was something he’d rarely seen.

_ Even though he doesn’t remember, he’s definitely not the same Soul who first left for the DWMA,  _ Wes mused.  _ His friends have obviously influenced that. _

Soul had calmed down now, staring into his tea.

“Hey, Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“Mom and Dad mentioned I was a loner at school. I just… is that true? Did I really not make any friends?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Soul looked heartbroken at that. “I mean, I know that on paper I’m eighteen.” He tapped the crown of his head. “I’m missing almost six years of my life here. So, just, I dunno. I’ve been thinking about how sad it is that I’ve been around for that six years without making any friends. That I really went through all my youth and grew up without anyone who cared except the family and the staff. It just sucks a bit, y’know?”

Wes sat there, conflicted. On the one hand, there was no way he couldn’t tell Soul. Soul deserved to know there was a whole group of people who loved and cared for him. On the other hand, that would obviously blow his parents’ carefully-constructed cover.

Seeing Soul downtrodden made up his older brother’s mind.

“They don’t want me telling you this…” Wes grumbled.

Soul perked up at that. “Tell me what?”

Wes sighed. “Okay, what I’m going to tell you is not easy stuff. This is why our parents don’t want you knowing, okay?”

Soul nodded.

“That scar on your chest. The really big one? That was done in the presence of your best friend.”

Soul blanched a bit, gripping the front of his shirt. “Really?”

“Yeah. You two were out in Italy one night. Apparently there was a man with a knife, and he attacked you two in a church. She wasn’t able to open the doors and froze in fear, and you jumped in front of her to protect her.”

“When was this?”

“You were fourteen.”

Soul stared down at his covered chest, frowning. “I see…”

“It wasn’t the only time you were injured. You’ve been in and out of the hospital, living a wild life. All your choice, of course, but your friends weren’t necessarily the safest.”

Soul didn’t reply. Wes sighed.

“They’ve been worried, Mom and Dad. They were scared you wouldn’t make it back then. So they wanted to take you away from there. The amnesia was part of why they made that decision.” Wes smiled. “You’ve got a whole great group of them back at school, you know? They agreed not to contact you until you’d settled down, but maybe you’ll get to meet them soon. I know for a fact they’re thinking of you all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really really.”

Soul smiled, relieved. “Thanks Wes.”

“The friend of yours, the one who was there when you were knifed? She asked me to bring some stuff home for you. I didn’t bring them this time since I flew, but I’ll bring them to the next family reunion in two weeks if you’d like. So long as you don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” Soul was smiling much more now. “Thanks Wes.”

“Of course.”

There was a beat of silence.

“And Soul?”

“What’s up?”

Wes’s expression became very serious. “I’m not kidding when I say don’t tell Mom or Dad. I’m sure you’ll find out why soon enough on your own. I can tell you’re on the verge of something. I want you to remember the truth.”

Soul swallowed, nodding. Something about that was ominous.

Wes leaned back, relaxing. “Well then, that was something. Have you been having any other dreams I should know about?”

Soul hesitated. “Well, actually…there’s been these nightmares too. Really freaky ones. I can’t really remember what’s going on in them either, but like, I get some weird vibes, ya know?”

“Are they related to your memories, do you think?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, why would they be? But,” Soul said, “they feel like they should be.”

“What do you remember?” Wes asked, genuinely curious.

His little brother looked him straight in the eye. “Spiders.”

“Spiders?” Wes repeated.

Soul nodded. “Yeah. Freaky, right? You remember how I never really cared about them, though I didn’t like them or anything?”

Wes nodded.

“Well that’s the thing. I wake up thinking about them, and I feel scared, but I’m also…jazzed.”

“Jazzed.”

“Don’t say it so condescendingly, jeez. Anyway, what’s weird about it is that I don’t remember much, but it’s always the same things I remember when I wake up. There’s that person I keep calling Angel, and some other lady, and then a bunch of spiders. But the spiders are weird because I’m not scared of them. They almost feel like a part of me. And I feel stronger after the dreams, but like…in my soul?” Soul laughed. “Again, weird, right?”

“Arachne...”

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Wes just smiled a bit. “Maybe you had a really traumatic experience with spiders in the past? I wouldn’t count the freaky spider dreams out. They seem to hold some important value if they keep reoccurring.”

Weird seemed to be the main word that was coming up in their conversation. Wes couldn't help but consider that this information was something everyone at the DWMA would benefit from having.

“Have you been keeping track of all this?” Wes asked.

“Actually, now that you mention it, I've been keeping a dream journal.”

“You have?!”

Wes admitted he was surprised to hear it. Soul wasn't the type to keep notes. Note taking wasn't his forte. And he cared now to keep a dream journal?

Soul was unaware of his brother's shock. “Yeah. Figured after the first few that it'd be easier to remember them if I wrote stuff down. So I did.”

“Mind if I get a copy of it? I think Marjorie can take a look at it to analyse it.”

“Right,” said Soul, smirking. “Your hot French fiancée is a shrink.”

Wes chose to ignore the comment, but he was glad that Marjorie made a good cover story. He ended up stopping home briefly to take a picture of each page of Soul's journal. He emailed them to his office immediately, making sure to put a reminder to print them.

He also made a quick phone call to Spirit Albarn, just to keep everyone important in the loop.

“Hello? This is Wes Evans. I was hoping if you could put me in touch with your daughter and Lord Death. I have a few updates on my younger brother, Soul.”


	8. Awaken! The Demon Weapon Remembers

It wasn't unusual for Maka to be called to Kid's office these days. She'd probably been it more the last few weeks than the entire time he occupied that space before combined.

“What is it, Kid? Have we gotten any more updates?”

Spirit, who was also in the room, exchanged a glance with his employer. Kid shook his head.

“Not exactly…” The shinigami cleared his throat.

“Maka,” he began. “I would like you to consider taking a new partner.”

Maka sat in steely silence. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this from her friend. Spirit looked between the young Lord Death and his daughter, unable to say anything that would ease the rising tension. Of course this wouldn’t be taken well.

Kid frowned. “Maka?”

“You’re joking.” Maka deadpanned.

Spirit sighed. “Maka darling, please hear him out. He’s only trying to do what’s best.”

“You want me to listen to Kid tell me to give up on Soul, Papa. Are you serious right now?” She shot her father an incredulous gaze.

“Maka…” Spirit warned.

This couldn’t be happening! “No! It’s only been a month since he’s left, I think we can still get him back!”

“It won’t be a permanent thing,” Spirit said. “Wes has been sending us more and more updates about Soul. It seems like he may make a breakthrough soon at any rate, and we’re going to see if we can trigger something in about eleven days.”

“And that’s still eleven days I’d be abandoning my partner, cheating on a promise I made to someone I love! You, of all people, should know my loyalty will always stay true!”

“Maka, listen to me for Death’s sake!” Kid intervened. This was no time for any arguments, especially among family.

That got Maka to stop. She stared at Kid, surprised he would use his own name in vain.

Kid took a deep breath before continuing. “Maka, I hate to do this. Truly, I do. If it were up to me, we would be rehabilitating Soul and making this Priority #3. However, we have a more pressing matter at hand. Two, in fact.

“The first is, of course, defeating the rogue witch Echo. She’s made a reputation both to us at the DWMA and to the Witch Order. Both parties are working together to try and locate her, as well as come up with an appropriate sentence for her crimes.”

“Which is…?”

“Still up in the air. And that’s Priority #2,” said Kid. “Figuring out the finer points of our alliance. Now back in the day, we would award the witch’s soul to the meister and weapon who defeated her. With this alliance, however, the witches are requesting to keep the soul of their fallen sister.”

“But that’s dangerous!” said Maka. “Who knows what may happen if another witch who follows Echo decides to revive her!”

Kid nodded. “And that’s our concern. As you know, I do not distrust the witches, unlike some others I am aware of. However, the workings of the council are still a mystery to us all. Even with Kim and Ox as envoys, there’s only so much information we’re given. It would help the general population relax if they knew that a shinigami such as myself were to hold on to this witch’s soul.”

“So why won’t you?”

“Because of the alliance.”

Maka was ready to protest, but Kid held up his hand.

“Think of it from a witch’s perspective for a second. To them, the soul is handed over to an institution whose founding purpose was to hunt and kill witches and use their souls to create stronger weapons that were used to hunt and kill more witches. By me possessing Echo’s soul, it would be the perfect ingredient to return to our old ways.”

“But that’s not true!”

“I know. But that’s what it looks like.” Kid sighed. “The DWMA’s reputation hangs in the balance with the witches. My reputation hangs in the balance with the people. We need this alliance to work to secure peace. That is why I am doing everything in my power to ensure it will succeed.”

When Maka didn’t reply, Kid stood up.

“Maka, that’s why I want you to consider a new apprentice among some of the partnerless weapons. You are the meister who helped create the Last Death Scythe.”

“I’m also the partner who got him almost killed,” she muttered. “More than once at that.”

“That may be the case, but nevertheless there are many who look up to you. By having you out of commission due to Soul’s absence, there has been a drop in morale.” Kid paused, turning to her. “At the very least, will you consider helping teach some of the combat classes here? Your soul perception in itself is a gift. I’m sure the teachers would appreciate your help.”

Maka groaned. Kid was right. Kid was so right it hurt, but she had to trust him.

“Fine. But i won't take another partner until the new school year starts.”

“I'll accept those terms,” said Kid. “If there is an emergency situation that will arise, I'll have you would your father.”

“Fine,” she repeated.

Spirit was doing his best to hold back tears. A chance to spend time with his darling daughter? Fantastic!

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul pulled at the necktie one last time in a futile attempt to loosen the chokehold it had on him. It proved just as useless at the hundreds of time he’s done it before. He groaned slightly, trying to entertain himself among the throng of people in the Evans’ garden.

The family gathering wasn’t an unfamiliar one to him. Sure, all of his estranged cousins were older and there were more dressed-up children than the last one he remembered attending, but aside from that it was the same. Here he was, Solomon Evans, standing off to the side wearing a blue suit that didn’t suit him in the slightest and a t-shirt underneath the button-up. He could feel the disapproving looks he was getting, but quite frankly he didn’t give a shit.

Voices were all around him, distracting voices, conversations he wanted to listen to, and at the same time, drown out.

“But to think he chose such an… _ alternative _ lifestyle in Death City.”

“Many would way it's an honor though, considering what great things he accomplished there.”

“True, true…”

Soul’s ears perked a bit at that, but left it.

Death City. He’d woken up in Death City in a hospital after what the doctors told him was a nasty accident. They never really told him what happened, and his parents chalked it up to a motorcycle accident, but something felt off. This family gathering was proof of that.

No matter where Soul went, he felt like everyone was watching him and whispering about him behind his back. It made him uneasy, as if they were all in on a secret he wasn’t aware of. He merely wanted to escape out of visibility, hide away in a corner where no one would see him, find him, but there were no crevices to slide through, no unoccupied corners out of sight. Seriously, why did this party have to take place in the garden?

A voice broke his attempts to block out everyone around him. He couldn’t ignore this one.

“Soul?”

Soul straightened his back and walked over to his mother, who was waving at him from a nearby table.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve heard you play the piano. Won’t you be a dear and show Aunt Miranda how much better you’ve gotten.”

“Of course, Mother,” he said, nodding slightly.

Making his way to a platform set up just for performing, he found the grand piano waiting, among other instruments. It was natural that his parents would set up for potential performances. Music was every Evans’ middle name (undeniably his too, as much as he wished it not to be) in terms of anything they were recognized for.

Sitting on the modern, slick black bench, Soul raised the key guard in place without a sound. Real gentlemen didn’t yank anything open or slam anything closed, the exact behavior he knew he needed to exhibit. Placing his fingers on the keys, he pondered what he would play as he felt all eyes on him.

The music came to him slowly, as if he was learning the song as he played. The repetitive cadence was fluid, and he found himself swaying to the rhythm as it washed over him. Soul closed his eyes. His fingers danced along the keys more certainly.

_ The souls of my family made these notes. _

Then came the headache.

Soul grit his teeth, hands slamming down on the keys in a way that caused all the listeners to gasp. He stared blankly at the piano, panting, body drenched in cold sweat. He sensed his mother getting up, his father telling her to sit. Footsteps came closer.

“Soul?” His father’s voice, tinged with worry. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

“I… I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry” Soul bowed, a wince in his expression as he tried to suppress the pain in a way that didn’t attract more attention.

“Step down for a moment then. I’m sure everyone will understand. Perhaps a refreshment?”

True, he hadn’t eaten yet. Agreeing to his father’s suggestion, Soul stepped off the stage and made way to the beverage stand. Taking a small glass of water, he turned and took a sip, hoping the hydration would soothe his nerves. 

It didn’t though, as he felt the presence of others nearby, making way to check on him after such an abrupt display. Soul turned to excuse himself from the attention, though, trying to create a viable reason to walk away from this party  _ right now _ .

The first thing he caught glimpse of was not the new curious crowd, though. A spider crawled near one of their shining shoes. As it was about to get trampled, something about it bothered him to an unexplainable degree. He looked in fear for the eight legged intruder, lunging as his plastic cup was crushed and dropped to the ground and shoved the soon-to-be murderer aside. 

Gasps. Everyone stared at him even harder. Why did he let such a trivial loss of one bug get to him so much? Now he was shaking uncontrollably. Everyone’s hands reached to touch his shoulders. Arms coming around to hold him steady in sympathy, or rather to possibly cover their disappointment in the loss of his composure.

“Don’t…  _ don’t touch me _ ! Please, just get away!” Soul swiped away the guests’ attempts to confront him as a wave of despair washed over him, an unstoppable misunderstood force.

Stepping back cautiously, Soul knew he couldn’t make his exit so disgracefully, so he dodged nervously about the crowds, avoiding the shoulders and hands of anyone and everyone until he saw his dad.

“Please excuse me for a minute. I… I need...”

His father looked concerned. Had it been his mom, it’d be a look of disappointment.

“Soul?”

“I’m sorry, Father,” he quipped. “I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

_ All because of a spider. _

Thankfully, Tom Evans didn't ask any questions. “Go sit then, and come back when you’re better. But please see to it that a maid goes with you. Just in case.”

In case of what? Soul was reluctant, but he knew he couldn’t stop them. He could, however, out-walk them.

“Master…” the maid called as she hurriedly tried to keep up without reverting to a run through the halls.

Along the way, Soul shed the coat and tie that seemed to choke him of his freedom. He could always come back for them later. Or even better, the maid would probably pick them up on the way. Either way, he didn’t care. He just needed to be away, away from everyone.

“Not right now. Please,  _ please  _ just leave me be. I’m… I’ll be okay.” Not that the statement would make her actually leave.

It was as if a nightmare was coming on. Soul shuddered. He could practically feel the spiders crawling down his spine, like the one that was about to be stomped innocently prior. Was it fear or excitement he was feeling from the pins and needles sensation? Or was it something entirely different. Soul had no idea, but the blood pounding in his ears felt like a sign as to something happening. Another major headache perhaps?

“Young Master?” the maid pleaded again.

“I said leave me alone!”

Soul swung his arm blindly in the direction of the persistent maid, his arm hitting the wall with a solid thud. Only instead of the feeling of his fist colliding with the wood and wallpaper there was a flash of light followed by a dull sensation. Soul opened his eyes at the unfamiliar sound and turned to look at his arm.

He paled immediately.

That wasn’t an arm. That was most definitely not an arm.

It looked like a blade of some kind.

The maid was also staring, but her gaze had a melancholy expression to it.

“I was wondering when this would happen,” she said. “I was told not to tell you about this. I will inform your parents.”

She dipped her head a bit.

Soul wrenched the blade out of the wall. He fell back at the force, wincing slightly. He got up and ran to his room, locking the door behind him. Belatedly, Soul remembered he’d actually stabbed one of the pictures in the wall. It was an ugly thing, some abstract mannequin piece his mother found in France some years ago, but still. Soul let out a long, shaky breath as he slid down the door with his back to it until he was seated on the floor.

It wasn’t even a minute before he heard running footsteps. As he suspected, they stopped in front of his door. There was a knock.

“Soul? Are you there?”

His dad.

“Soul?” he tried again. “Soul, please. Open the door. We should talk.”

“Go away,” Soul muttered.

A pause, then:

“I’ll go get your mother. Stay there.”

Soul ignored his father. He walked over to his bed and collapsed, staring at the blade that was once his hand. What the hell was going on? Where the hell was his forearm? Was this just some sick dream?

The blade--yes, it was a real blade--made a rattling noise as Soul shook. He was halfway between awe and a panic attack. Soul reached out with shaking fingers on his regular hand. His hands met the blade. It was cool to the touch. He had no sensation in the blade arm.

_ Is it sharp? _

Curiosity getting the better of him, Soul slid a finger along the edge and winced, pulling away. A thin cut ran along his index finger. Blood was beginning to well from it in a thin river of red.

Well, that answered his question.

Somehow the pain grounded him a little. Soul took a few deep breaths, willing away the pounding of his heart.

As he began to calm down, Soul took a moment to sit up and examine his arm-blade.

It appeared to be the blade of a scythe. It curved slightly towards him, the sharp edge black and the inside red. A zigzag pattern ran halfway down the length, finishing in a smooth line and separating the two colors.

The first thought Soul had was,  _ Oh my god, I could totally attend the Death Weapon Meister Academy. _

The second thought was,  _ Do my parents know about this? _

That got Soul thinking. The past few weeks with the half-hidden stories, the weird dreams, the inklings of memories. Could those be tied to his arm? The maid didn’t seem all too surprised that his arm suddenly was a blade, after all.

The more Soul thought, the more he began to doubt the story he’d been fed.

_ My parents said that at the age of thirteen they sent me to a prestigious private school in Pennsylvania. There I continued my lessons in French, Latin, and Italian. I was a music student. I was a bit of a loner, so I didn’t have any friends who would contact me following my memory loss. _

But it wasn’t adding up.

Why then, did he get in a motorcycle accident in Death City? Death City was where the DWMA was located. Was he there because he knew he was a weapon? It seemed like the maid knew. And judging by her lack of surprise, everyone else knew too.

_ My parents know. _

A heavy knock pulled Soul from his thoughts.

“Soul, open up!”

His mother. His mother who probably knew the whole time and hid this from him. Soul found himself feeling a new emotion he hand felt once since returning home.

Anger.

The banging on the door became persistent.

“Solomon Edward Evans, you open this door right now!”

Soul held up his arm, willing the transformation away. And it worked, much to his surprise. His blade-arm was engulfed in white light, melting like putty and then reforming into his actual forearm. Soul flexed his fingers a few times, marvelling at it. It was as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened. His arm was a blade. He could control it.

_ He was a weapon. _

Soul turned and faced his bedroom door. He opened it, unsmiling. His parents were both there, father cowering a bit behind his mother, whose expression was unreadable. His mother was looking at him in shock, examining his arms for what she might have expected to be said blade.

Soul’s teeth were gritted. He was livid, he was confused, but most of all he needed answers. Now.

“Explain.”


	9. No More Lying: Return to Death City

“Tell me the truth,” said Soul. “I wasn’t at a school in Pennsylvania, was I?”

The four Evans were sitting around the dining room table, facing one another. Wes, who had just arrived from the airport, refused to look at his brother next to him, while both parents sitting across from the two boys were silent. Soul was fuming. Even sitting, he carried a threatening presence in the room.

“Well?” he demanded at the silence.

“Soul, please,” said Wes. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Soul shouted, slamming a fist down on the table. He turned to face his brother. “You knew! You knew, yet you hid everything from me!”

Mrs. Evans’s sharp gaze zeroed in on her older son. “You told him?”

Wes sighed. “I didn’t say anything, Mom. I just told Soul there are some things that you weren’t ready to tell him. And I was going to give him this tonight.”

The whole family watched as Wes put a photo album in the middle of the table.

“She wanted him to have it,” was all he could say.

Mr. and Mrs. Evans paled at it. Soul watched his parents in frustration.

“Who?’ he asked insistently. “Who wanted me to have it?”

“Your roommate” Wes answered, voice flat in shame, unsure of how much he could rightly expose. “You might as well tell him the truth, Mom. This was all your idea, after all.”

Everyone turned to look at Mrs. Evans. She sighed heavily. It was time to confess what she'd done, but the words were sticking in her throat.

It was Mr. Evans who spoke up.

“Soul. For the last five years, you were enrolled at the Death Weapon Meister Academy.”

The Death Weapon Meister Academy.

If Soul hadn’t been sitting already, he would have surely collapsed again. Instead, he slumped down further in his chair, trying to digest the news. He was enrolled at  _ the _ DWMA. He’d been enrolled there for five years. He was a weapon.

“So if I was enrolled there for that long, that means I had a meister too, right? I fought, and collected souls so I could try and become an even stronger weapon. Right?”

His parents exchanged a look, obviously conflicted.

Soul was finally starting to connect the dots.

“It’s the person who wanted me to have this photo album, isn’t it? My meister.”

“It is,” said Mr. Evans. His wife shot him a glare. “What? It's true. Wes probably talked to her and got that album, right? We should just tell Soul, dear. I think he deserves to know.”

“Tell me what?”

His mother finally spoke up, realizing there was nothing she could hide from him anymore. “After your injury, we asked that you stay with us again and settle down without having to go back to Death City. We also asked them to keep quiet about your disappearance from the public eye. We didn’t want to shock you.”

“Why the hell would you keep this from me? I had a life there! I had friends! Why did you think I didn’t deserve to know about them?”

“Because we were trying to protect you!”

That surprised Soul. In anger, he held up his right hand. It flickered, a light circled up it, and within a moment there was a scythe blade in its place.

“I’m a weapon, Mom,” he said firmly. “This isn’t some magic trick. I can protect myself.”

His mother sighed. “That’s exactly what you said when you told us you wanted to go to that school. And we let you, thinking you’d be fine. Then about a year and a half after your enrollment at DWMA, we received a letter saying you’d been gravely injured on a mission in Italy.”

Italy? Didn’t Wes mentioned something about that?

There was a flash.  _ Doors that opened in, not out. A black sword. Pain. A girl’s scream. _

Soul’s hand brushed subconsciously along the scar marring his chest. His mother nodded.

“That was the time, yes. Apparently your meister had led you into imminent danger and froze in fear when the enemy attacked. You jumped in front of her to save her, and were cut cut down in the process. You almost died that night, and I heard from you later on that you’d been affected by the poison on the blade. Saying something about a demon and black blood. I didn’t understand any of it, but you were scaring me.”

Soul sat, soaking up the first bit of real memories his parents opened up. His arm had reverted back to its arm state.

“So why lie?”

“You were only fourteen and I almost lost you then!”

His mother’s outburst shocked Soul into silence. He watched as his mother’s expression slowly morphed into something akin to grief.

“You were only fourteen. We didn’t know if you’d pull through for almost three days. And the moment you were released from the hospital, you went right back to work. Sixteen years old and you almost died again.” This time her voice carried more grief, but she continued.

“If it hadn’t been for the fact that you were adamant in becoming a Death Scythe then I would’ve forced you back home! But you begged, and your father and Wes sided with you. Who was I to let you give up on that dream?”

Soul paled. “A Death Scythe?”

He knew what they were, of course. Who didn’t? Death Weapons were only one in a few, and to become a Death Scythe—a personal weapon to the shinigami himself—was the highest honor any weapon could have.

Something about those words made something in his mind click into place. Like a puzzle coming together, Soul realized what it all meant. The broken Japanese phrase he couldn’t figure out, the photographs from the news articles he’d found online. Why he was even in Death City, Nevada in the first place.

_ Saigo no Desu Saizu. _

_ Saigo no Death Scythe. _

Soul felt sick.

“I’m the Last Death Scythe.”

Both of his parents paled.

“How did you know that?” his mother asked. Then she gasped. “Those traders, the Japanese ones. Did they say something to you?”

“I didn’t understand then, but it makes so much sense. I’m a Death Scythe. I’m the last one that’ll ever be made. The alliance…”

Faces flickered before his eyes, too fast to remember. Two guns, blue hair, green eyes. The greenest of green eyes. A white dress, a piano, black wings.

Soul gripped his head in pain. The headache was sudden and blinding.

Wes was by his side in an instant, helping him sit up. Soul was doing his best to breathe, but the pain was spreading now. His vision was fading slightly. He kept hearing that voice.

_ Soul. _

_ I’m waiting for you right here. We all are. So wake up when you’re ready.  _

_ I’ll be here for you. I’ll always be here. _

_ Angel…  _ his feverish mind filled in. She was waiting.

“I need to go back.”

Soul looked up at his family, who had all gathered around him at some point. He stood up, watching them with panicked eyes.

Mrs. Evans swallowed. “But son…”

“Mom, please. I need to know who I was...before all of this, before the accident.”

Soul’s father placed a hand on her arm. “Dear?”

Giovanna Evans was silent for a long, long moment. Her resolve finally broke as she stood and pulled Soul into a tight hug. The weapon, not expecting the sudden embrace, stood stiffly for a moment before returning the embrace. Mrs. Evans buried her face into her younger son’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare almost die on us again, Soul. Understand?”

The morbid part of Soul wanted to joke and say ‘third time’s the charm,’ but the part of him that was focused on his mother’s firm embrace couldn’t do it. Instead he held her back tightly and nodded against her shoulder.

It was the first time Soul noticed just how much taller than his mother he’d become.

Mr. Evans sighed. “I’ll go ahead and contact the DWMA. I’m sure they’ll want to hear you say you want to go back, Soul.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul sat on the couch in the hallway before his mother's office. He was flipping through the photo album in slight awe, barely aware of Wes sitting next to him and looking over his shoulder. It was no surprise Soul would be immersed in what had happened those past few years.

The album was a time capsule in many ways.

Pictures taken from all around the world: Italy, Romania, Russia, China, Indonesia. Pictures with people he didn't remember but was obviously close to. They were all smiling.  _ He  _ was smiling.

So this was the life his mother wanted him to forget?

“Do you remember anything else?” Wes asked.

Soul shook his head. The pictures made his heart ache, but what hurt the most was that there was nothing familiar about them. It was almost like trying to remember a dream. There were feelings, sensations, sounds that he could associate with each picture and person, but Soul wasn’t sure if that was him attaching what he knew to them, or if they were from his actual forgotten memories.

The office door opened. Mr. Evans left and went straight to his office down the hall. He seemed upset. Wes hesitated, but went to check on his father.

Mrs. Evans turned to Soul, who was waiting.

“I just finished speaking with Lord Death,” she said.

Soul sat up. “And?”

“He would like to speak to you.”

Soul was waiting for his mother to hand him the phone, but she gestured into the room.

“He’s on the mirror.”

“The what now?”

“They don’t really use cell phones there,” said his mother calmly. “Something about interfering with a meister’s ability to use their abilities to the fullest capacity.”

“Right…”

Mrs. Evans cracked a small smile. “I don’t really understand it either. But go ahead. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Taking a deep breath, Soul steeled himself before entering the office.

Sure enough, the mirror hanging on the far wall had a strange glow to it. Soul swallowed. That was weird. Super weird. He took a few steps forward and cautiously peered at it.

Instead of his own reflection, there was the image of a young man who looked no older than him was there, clear as day. He looked normal enough except for his glowing golden eyes and the three white bands wrapping around his head through his hair. He was wearing a slim-fitted suit with a skull pin affixed to it. Behind him was a room filled with crosses and—oddly enough—a blue sky. Soul would have taken him for a photo if it hadn’t been from the way the clouds in the background were moving or the way the young man in the mirror smiled and waved to him.

“It’s nice to talk to you again, Soul.”

“You’re Lord Death?!”

The shinigami laughed a bit at Soul’s incredulous look. “As young as I look, yes. I am. You once called me a teammate and a friend, before my father’s passing. But that is a story for a different day.”

“Right…”

Soul had at least a million questions about the few short sentences Lord Death had said, but decided against asking.

Lord Death cleared his throat and continued. “As I have been informed by your parents, you have rediscovered that you are a demon weapon, and have requested to return to Death City and the Death Weapon Meister Academy to help you regain your memories. Does that sound just about right?”

“Just about, yeah.”

“Wonderful! It’ll be great to have you back again. I mean it. Of course, there will be a great deal of training—”

“Um…”

Lord Death stopped talking immediately. “Yes?”

“Can I interrupt real quick?”

“A question?”

“A few,” said Soul, a bit cautious. “If that's okay.”

“Of course.”

“Well, I guess… first off, is there anything that I can expect coming back? Like, some preparation? I’m not sure I’m really ready to start fighting. I mean, I just found out that… yeah.”

Kid chuckled lightly at this concern. “Of course. You might be one of my weapons, but that doesn’t mean you’re going straight into battles you’re not prepared for. According to your mother, your memories of training here aren’t back yet. Am I correct in assuming that?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, you’ll be reintegrated properly. Being a deathscythe, you have an extremely important role in our institution, and we’re going to do what it takes to teach you what you need to know first.”

“So since I’m a death scythe and all, then you probably needed to know if…” Soul paused. “Well, maybe the better question is, if I play such an important role, then you would have to know what I was up to, right? How did you keep tabs on that? How did you even know when I started regaining memories? Cuz I’m guess my parents didn’t tell you that.”

Lord Death smiled briefly. “We did keep quite close tabs on you during your time away from the DWMA, Soul. I heard mention you noticed a group of mice following you around your home.” When Soul nodded, Kid continued. “Those were the Mizune sisters, ally witches who have done numerous undercover missions with the DWMA. I asked that they keep us posted on any sudden changes in your behavior in case there was evidence you would regain your memories.”

“Oh…” 

_ So that’s why they never got rid of them, regardless of how much he mentioned it to the maids...  _

“Your brother was also a key factor in your memory recovery.”

“Wes?”

Lord Death nodded. “Yes. He brought the photo album to you today, though we planned to give that back to you a bit later. He has another possession of yours: a guitar.”

_ I play guitar?  _ Soul thought.

“Aside from that, he gave us copies of your dream journals so Dr. Stein, the man who helped you during your recovery, could read over them.”

Soul’s head was spinning. Just how elaborate were all of their plans? How much time, effort, and resources did the DWMA put into watching him?

“Any other questions?”

“Then…do I have to train? Take classes?” Soul asked. The DWMA  _ was  _ a school, after all. Did they treat training like earning a degree?

“As I was saying earlier, we are currently working on your reintegration into the DWMA. Though you are now eighteen and legally allowed to make your own decisions regarding your employment, we’ve decided that it is best to begin by reeducating you. You will probably need to review the basics of transforming into your weapon form, syncing with a meister’s wavelength, soul and ectoplasmic theory, and laws and regulations surrounding the legal limitations of being a weapon in today’s society, so long as you are willing to do so.”

Soul nodded, overwhelmed. Employment? So he could stay by Death’s side for the rest of his working life if he wanted to. There had to be something about that sort of life that drew him away from his family’s traditional line of musical performances, risks of dying and all.

“Good. To make sure we don’t lose you again, we will ask you to sign a contract. It will be non-binding, but this means only you and those you choose to include will be given rights to any decisions we make in regards to your participation.”

“So I don’t need to let my parents in on it?”

“Essentially, yes. Though I know you have some family you’re quite close to.”

Soul nodded. “Wes, yeah. So he can get a say in it?”

“If you let him, then yes. We’ll go over all the finer details upon your arrival to Death City. And we will give you some time to settle before reeducation.”

That sounded fair. Soul nodded again. Lord Death smiled.

“Excellent. Now, I’ve just discussed this with your mother, but I will go over it briefly with you again. As you are probably aware, as a weapon you had a meister from before your memory loss. We have already talked to Miss Maka Albarn about what the future entails if you were to return, and she had agreed to help us in reacquainting you to Death City then.”

“Um, Lord Death?”

“Call me Kid, please. All my friends still do.”

Kid…

Something about that felt right to him. Soul nodded. “Kid, then. I just had a couple of questions. Well, a couple more.”

Kid laughed a bit. “I’ll do my best to answer them, but I’m sure being back here will allow your other friends to answer them in greater detail. I’ve been busy these last couple year.”

_ Friends. _

Hearing that word made Soul pause for a second. Wes had mentioned it and he’d seen the photos, of course, but hearing Kid say it cemented the truth further. He had friends. He had people in his life he called friends, and they knew who he was and he (at some point) knew who they were.

The questions could wait, then. All except for one.

“Can you tell me more about who Miss Albarn is? Is she a teacher? Another student?”

Kid’s eyes went soft. His voice was quieter too.

“She was your meister and one of your closest companions for the last five years. You two were also housemates. She has your room still left from before the accident.”

Hearing that made Soul’s heart clench. He knew he’d had a life in the last five years he’d forgotten, but it never occurred to Soul how the people he’d forgotten must be feeling. A part of him figured they were just a bunch of stuffy rich kids who would take advantage of a friendship of him to get connections into the Evans family. But at the DWMA, that didn’t matter as much, did it? It was all about combat and strength.

That was cool.

“So Miss Albarn and I were close?”

“Very much so. You two were the strongest pair in Death City. Weapons and meisters alike looked up to the two of you. Your partnership was an odd one at the beginning, but became a stable one over time.”

Soul nodded, thoughtful. Could this Albarn person be in his memories somewhere? She had to be! But maybe his weird dreams could be explained better by her.

“Do you think if I met her, things may get better? Like, my memories come back faster or something?”

“I’m no expert on amnesia,” Kid admitted, “but I believe meeting your meister again may help. Dr. Stein was certain that remaining in Death City would have helped more than going home, since this is where you spent your last five years.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m glad.” Kid glanced at his watch. “Soul, I’m afraid to say that I will have to conclude our conversation here. I have other meetings to attend to.”

“Right.” Soul cleared his throat. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll see you soon?”

“Give us three days to prepare for your arrival.”

Three days. Three days and he would be in Nevada again. Soul felt giddy, like a child getting a prized present. This would be great, he was sure of it!

“Thank you!” he said.

Kid seemed to hesitate for a moment. Soul frowned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, not wrong, per say. It’s a silly little thing, really. I know you don’t remember me or the things we’d been through,” said Kid, “but it really is good to talk to you again, Soul. I mean this both as a shinigami who employs weapons, and as a man who had the honor to call you my friend. I feared we wouldn’t be able to ever see you again. Until next time.”

The call ended with an echoing click.

Soul left the room with a thousand and ten thoughts rushing through his mind.

His whole family was by the door now. Soul tried to ignore the mix of emotions he felt. They’d agreed to let him have a personal conversation with Kid. He knew he owed it to them to tell the truth, but something held Soul back.

They’d done enough damage hiding it away in the first place.

“They said it’ll take about three days to get everything ready.”

“And then?” asked his dad.

“Then I’m leaving. I’m going back.”

His father sighed in defeat. “I’ll be in my office then. We’ll have to make sure everything is ready on our end too.”

Mrs. Evans nodded. “I’ll let the staff know. Wes? Come with me?”

Wes gave Soul an apologetic smile and followed his mother. Soul stretched and decided to head up to his room to pack, leaving his father alone in the hallway.

With nothing else to do. Mr. Evans called his secretary.

“Odette? Clear my schedule for the next three days.” He smiled sadly. “I owe it to my son to explain everything I know.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Kid left his office, loosening his collar slightly. Screw symmetry, he needed to breathe, though he did end up taking off the tie entirely so it would not be lopsided on one side. Liz took it from his hand, folding it with practiced ease.

“That went well.”

“It did.”

Patty giggled. “Ready to tell everyone the good news?”

“I am.” Kid clipped his cloak around his shoulders. “Shall we invite everyone over for dinner?”

“Let’s eat out. There’s that awesome pizza joint near Black*Star’s place Harvar keeps recommending,” Liz suggested.

“Pizza it is then.”

. . . . . . . . . .

The group of meisters and weapon sat at a makeshift large table, rigged together with four smaller ones by their waitress. To Kid’s demand, it’d been arranged in a perfect 2x2 square, every line matching up and requiring a near total rearrangement of their section in the diner. Everyone knew better than to question or object to the insistence though. Perfectly in the center were pizzas to each individual’s requests, some sharing similar preferences. 

Black*Star began reaching for a piece until the shinigami shot him a glare, standing up to gather their attention. “Before we eat, I’d like to say something. We’ve gone a long two months without our friend. I know that you, as much as I, have been anticipating news of him…”

Everyone, save for Liz and Patty, paused to glance at each other. Was this topic appropriate to bring up when Maka was right there with them? Even mentioning this had the possibility of striking a nerve when they were supposed to be having fun.

Kid firmly looked ahead, ignoring Maka’s steely stare. He knew things would be better in a moment. He just had to say it.

“I’m happy to say that he has reawakened his weapon form, and while not necessarily regaining all his memories back, he’s voluntarily decided to join us at the DWMA again.”

The reaction was immediate. There were shouts of joy and hands thrown in the air with fists of celebration. 

“YAHOOOO!” Black*Star shouted, not holding back on volume.The eyes of other customers in the diner immediately darted their way.

“Black*Star, you should keep it down,” Tsubaki reminded him.

“Let em’ hear me! About time he came to his senses! I’m gonna have to teach that rat bast—”

Instantly, Tsubaki interrupted him. Her sweet, soft voice was one that could make anyone smile. “That’s wonderful news! I’m so happy for you, Maka.”

Meanwhile, Maka couldn’t do anything more than smile. Tears almost welled in her eyes, and she swiped them away immediately, covering the motion in a disguise of celebration.

Kid waited until the commotion went down before continuing.

“That’s not all. Furthermore, I’ll be looking to you all to help Soul with his reintegration. I’ve already arranged the agreements for his return, so your help is crucial.”

“And?” Kilik asked.

“We have three days to prepare for Soul’s arrival.” Kid let out a little, breathless laugh. “He’s coming home.”

“So what all needs to be done before he gets here?” asked Kim.

“I must inform the Witch Order of this update, naturally. Knowing we’ve secured all remaining death scythes will be a relief for them too. Kim, Ox, I trust you two will be able to make sure the information makes it to Mabaa.”

“After dinner?”

“It can wait until morning. I think this has been enough excitement for one day.”

Ox and Kim nodded.

“Maka,” Kid continued.

“Yes?”

“This isn’t an easy thing to ask, considering everything that has happened, but I was wondering if you would be comfortable with Soul living with you again?”

There was a moment of silence. Everyone’s eyes were trained on Maka for her reaction, unsure how to react. The meister had a thoughtful look on her face.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Soul and I spoke about it,” Kid said. “He doesn’t have any recollection of you from what I was able to gather, but when I mentioned you were his meister and former housemate, he seemed interested in reconnecting with you. We both agreed that your presence may help jog his memory.”

“How much about our relationship did you tell him?”

“Nothing more than that. I didn’t think it was in my place to do that.”

“Thank you.”

“Will that be okay?”

“It’s fine, Kid. I want to help Soul as much as I can, even if…even if it means hiding the truth from him.”

“Is three days enough time to prepare?”

Maka finally looked up. Her eyes held the same unwavering determination they did before any important mission.

“Yes.”

“Enough of this chit chat. Let’s EAT!” Black*Star exclaimed, grabbing the first slice.

. . . . . . . . . .

The second flight back turned out just as exhausting as the first one going away. Soul was both excited and nervous, and while he’d been given the chance to glance around the landscape below in his plane, he found it hard to truly pay attention. With so much going on, there was only so much he could focus on. He ended up sleeping for a majority of the flight, and things only hit him after he deboarded the plane.

_ I’m a  _ weapon _ , and I’m going to attend DWMA! This is it, the life I’m missing. _

Soul checked the print-out his mother had given him before he left. He was supposed to meet Kid and then be driven to Maka’s apartment. No,  _ their  _ apartment. It was his too.

Looking around the crowds at the airport after picking up his luggage, Soul glanced around, eyes peeling for the person he’d been told to look for, the only one he would recognize at the moment. 

_ A three-striped suit, striped hair… Three-striped suit, striped hair…. _

Ah! In a moment, he spotted who was supposedly  _ the  _ Shinigami. Seeing him in person versus in a mirror felt entirely different, though. 

Instantly, he was waved over. Trotting anxiously to the Death God, Soul ducked his head a bit.

“Um, hey?”

“Welcome home, Soul,” Kid said with a proud smile.

“Thanks.”

Soul gazed briefly at Kid. Amazing that he was actually standing here with Lord Death in the flesh! He had to force his jaw not to drop. Every detail of his outfit was impeccably smooth, not a wrinkle to set it awry or spec of dust. He did not appear a single bit like what would be typical of a menace or all-powerful being. No, instead he was a welcoming, friendly and perfectly human-appearing individual. Heck, Soul was about the same height as him!

“How was the flight?” Kid inquired. 

Soul shrugged. It wasn’t his first flight, but every one of them always left him in the same state. “It was long, and tiring. Jet lag, I guess.”

“I see, I see. Shall we drive over?”

“Sure.”

The car, it ended up, was just a cab. Soul was completely shocked as they drove through the streets towards the center of Death City. Here he was in a regular old taxi sitting next to one of the most powerful beings on earth. How surreal. Soul wasn’t sure what to do. Should he talk? Kid said they were friends before, but that was strange.

Kid broke the awkward silence. “Ah, I suppose you’re wondering where we’re going, then? I’m sure you’re ready to settle down.”

Soul nodded, a lump in his throat forming, unsure of himself in this strange new city. 

“Don’t worry, for the time being, we’ll have you stay in your old apartment with Maka as we said before. If there are any concerns, please feel free to contact myself or tell Maka directly.”

Soul nodded in acknowledgement. Being in a city he didn’t remember was exciting, but the weapon, no, Death Scythe (somehow the thought was still exciting), but after today’s travels, he was ready to sleep. Everything else could start tomorrow.

“Alright. Sounds good.”

“We’ll give you two weeks to adjust to life here before we start any training. From there we’ll have Black*Star be in charge of all of your physical rehabilitation. Professor Marie and Dr. Stein will help you with transformation and soul theory respectively. After that, Maka will work on resonance training and combat.”

The cab stopped. “Your stop.”

“Thank you.” Kid paid and gestured for Soul to go. “How much do I owe you?”

Soul got his small luggage out of the trunk, along with his guitar, which he had been pleasantly surprised to discover he could still play a bit of. Kid joined him a moment later and pointed to the apartment complex across the street.

“There’s your place, on the fifth floor. Oh, I see Maka’s waiting of us.”

There was a person sitting on the front steps there. She stood up and crossed the street towards them. Soul recognized her as the young woman in most of his pictures.

“Is that…?”

“You meister, Maka.”

Maka stepped forward.  

“It’s nice to see you again Soul,” she said. “Even though you don’t remember me.”

Soul couldn’t help but stare.

Maka Albarn was definitely a striking figure. Her green eyes were steady, her blond hair tied into two pigtails, her clothes suiting her. She was the shortest of the group, but the way she held herself was full of confidence. There was something more, though. It was as if her aura was bigger than her. Strong. Fierce. Her eyes met with Soul’s and he shuddered a bit at the weight behind her stare.

There was something so painfully familiar about Maka Albarn, as if he’d met her in a dream and was desperately trying to hold onto those faint memories of her. It made his chest ache. He didn’t even know her, not really. But it felt like it.

Maka nodded towards his suitcase. “Want me to carry it up?”

“Nah, it’s cool. Um, I guess I just want to turn in for the night?”

“That’s fine! You’ve had a long journey. I’ll show you up.” Maka took Soul’s suitcase, despite his protests, and waved to Kid with her free hand. “Thanks Kid. I’ll see you soon!”

Kid waved the two goodbye before taking out his skateboard and riding back to his own house.

. . . . . . . . . .

Finally back at the home, Kid settled back down with his friends in a pair of much-deserved sweatpants. Everyone save for Maka and Soul were slouching on the round couch in a loft. They’d previously offered to go with Kid to retrieve the amnesic weapon, but Kid was glad he kept it narrowed down to just him. He didn’t want to overwhelm Soul, after all.

That didn’t stop his weapons from prying, though.

“So, how’d it go? Is Maka okay, you know, seeing him after all that?”

Of course Liz would be the first to ask.

“She’s taking this surprisingly well. Was very civil with Soul.” Kid noted.

“Oh?”

“Yes, no outbursts or uncertainty. It’s just as if they were meeting for the first time, again.”

Liz gave a short nod. “I see. You know, I almost expected her to burst into tears, knowing how close they were.”

“I don’t know,” said Tsubaki softly.

Kid turned to look at her. The weapon’s expression mirrored her worry.

“Maka-chan’s the kind of person who tries to see past her fear. That, or accept it and not allow it to affect her on the outside. This always worked, but now… I’m afraid she’s only putting on that mask for Soul’s sake and not her own.”

Black*Star nodded sagely. “I see what you mean, Tsubaki. She’d better not put her needs on the back burner for him.”

Patty was frowning. She turned to Liz next to her. “Hey big sis, you think they’ll be okay?”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” said Liz with a sigh, “although I’m slightly worried Soul may unintentionally hurt her. You sure he’ll be okay at the apartment?”

“He’d better not.”

Everyone turned to Black*Star as he practically snarled the words, his hands balled into fists in his lap.

“Maka’s like a kid sister to me. If Soul so much as dares make her cry, I’ll come after him, memories or not.”

“Even though he’s your best friend?” asked Tsubaki

“Especially because he’s my best friend. Cool guys don’t make girls cry, that’s what he’d always say.”

Patty laughed. “He did, didn’t he?”

“Well then,” Kid said. “Let’s make sure to keep an eye on everything, and be here if Maka needs any of us.”

A murmur of agreement went through the group.  They'd just have to wait and see.


	10. Adjusting, Adjusting; The First Week Home

Soul Evans woke up that morning in a room that felt both familiar and foreign to him.

Death City. He was in  **the** Death City. Both curious and excited, Soul got out of bed and opened the window. He looked out on the street, impressed.

The view from the fifth floor window wasn’t necessarily the best, but it overlooked the street Maka lived on. No, the street  _ they  _ lived on. This was his home too, to some extent.

Just like the rest of the city, it had an almost mish mashed gothic-and-modern art feel, with cobblestone streets and old, black lamp posts, but buildings that leaned a bit and were more colorful than not. It comforted Soul. Could this be his old feelings of the city itself?

Shrugging, Soul left the curtains open and looked around his room.

He didn’t have a chance to explore the night before, being too tired to care too much. Now that it was morning Soul decided to do some snooping. Did it count as snooping if he had lived there before? Did it count as snooping if he was going through his own things?

Soul just shook his head. It was too early to do that much thinking. Besides, he wanted to know more about himself.

Snooping time!

Soul began to go through all of the drawers and shelves, trying to determine what the old Soul Evans was like. Who was he before the accident? What kind of life did a Death Scythe live?

The closet was full of practical clothing, many of it black, white, grey, and red. The drawers, meanwhile, had an array of colorful t-shirts folded neatly in them. The shelves were lined with textbooks on soul theory and foreign languages, CDs, and records, as well as a few odd knicknacks. His desk drawers were more interesting. One had the usual school supplies—notebooks, pens, pencils, erasers, highlighters. Another had file folders with job applications and resumes. The bottom one, which was the largest, was filled to the point of bursting with sheet music.

Soul frowned. He hadn’t expected that. He pulled out the front stack of them (again, surprised by the organization) and flipped through it.

Half of it was pieces he’d never seen before, all of them for piano. Lots of the pieces had colorful sticky notes attached to them. Soul squinted at them. That wasn’t his handwriting.

_Played on Kid’s birthday, Winter Solstice: 12/21/XX_

_         New piece I found at Death Note’s Music. Wonder if Soul will play it for me? _ _   
_ _         6/12/XX _

_         Concert: 5/1/XX _

_Angela’s 11th birthday party @Black*Star’s place: 6/6/XX_

A few were accompanied by photographs that were paper clipped to them. Soul flipped through them with interest. Whoever had taken these clearly had an artistic eye. They mostly focused on him playing the piano with a serene look on his face. Weird. Had he always been this relaxed playing the piano? Others, though, had his standing and smiling with people. Soul recognized many of them from the people he’d met yesterday.

_ My friends,  _ he reminded himself.

There was Lord Death shaking his hand, the two of them smiling. Another where there was a young girl Soul assumed was Angela running around as Black*Star chased her. There was one of Soul talking to Liz (or was this Patty?) as he leaned away from a piano at a cafe. And then the last one…

_My birthday! 9/5/XX_

Soul stared at it long and hard. It was a picture of him and Maka—so Maka was the one who’d made all the notes. He had an arm draped around her shoulder, and her arms wrapped around his waist. They were both smiling. Maka’s beam was wide, while his was a bit more reserved. There was no doubt the two of them were very comfortable with their closeness in the photograph.

Soul swallowed a lump in his throat as he put it away. There was an intimacy about that photograph that bothered him. Maka had definitely held him at arm’s length when they arrived to the apartment last night. It made him wonder if that photo was even true.

“Quit being an idiot, Soul,” he muttered to himself. “She’s just being polite cuz you’re total strangers now.”

The weapon decided to change into one of the t-shirts and a pair of jeans before heading out of his bedroom. Already there was a flurry of movement there. His new...old(?) roommate was listening to some classical music while cooking pancakes on a skillet. She turned and beamed at him as he sauntered in.

“Good morning, Soul!” Maka chirped. “I’ve already started on breakfast, if you can grab a couple of plates.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. He hesitated, however, upon entering the kitchen. “Um, Maka?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you keep the plates?”

“Oh!” Maka turned, pointing. “My bad. The far left cupboard. Cups should be in there too. I’d like a glass for orange juice. If you want coffee, just grab a mug.”

The thought of coffee wasn’t that appetizing to Soul, he nodded. He settled on two glasses instead. Right as he set the plates down, Maka laid out the forks and knives. She moved around him with ease, like it was a practiced movement. A second later there was a tall stack of pancakes in the middle of the table and two smaller plates of sausage in front of both their seats.

“Dig in!” she announced.

Soul sat down across from Maka. “No Blair?”

“She had work this morning. She hates waking up early, but that means she gets a bigger bonus from the fishmonger, so she’ll take it.”

Soul chuckled, remembering his embarrassing reaction to her very fine figure. “Makes sense.”

Maka gave Soul and odd look at his reaction, but said nothing.

“Sure you don’t want coffee?” she said instead.

“I’m sure.” 

Maka rolled your eyes. “Don’t blame me if you’re a big ol’ grouch later today.”

Soul paused while cutting his sausage. “Am I one of those reliant-on-coffee-to-function type of people?”

“You…” Maka paused as well, setting her cutlery down. “You were, yeah.”

They fell into silence, unsure how to continue. Soul was the first to clear his throat.

“That probably explains why I was grouchy at the hospital and at home.”

“Probably.”

The two fell into an awkward silence. Soul cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna eat.”

Maka nodded vigorously. “Yes, please do!”

He took three pancakes off the top of the stack, slathering them in syrup and peanut butter. His eyes lit up as he took a bite.

“This is good!”

“Of course it is. It’s my Papa’s recipe. The one thing he’s good at,” Maka grumbled.

Soul raised his eyebrow. “You and your old man not on good terms?”

Maka snorted. “It’s getting better. You used to hear me complain about him all the time.”

Soul grinned. “Oh yeah? So should I expect to still hear about him a little bit now?”

“Maybe. Depending on if he does something stupid.”

Unsure of where to start, Soul hesitated a moment. “I... know that you already know me, but… I feel like I should get to know you more, considering we're living together and all. If you’re okay with it, that is...”

“Of course! If you have any questions, please ask away! That’s what I’m here for, after all!” Maka sent a reassuring and confident smile. He’s helped her out so many times already. It was time for her to help him.

Soul felt himself relax. From the little bit of conversation they had now, he could already tell she was an amazing person.

“Your birthday's September 5th, right?”

Maka looked shocked. “How did you know that?”

“I found some old pictures in my room,” Soul said. He hesitated. “I was snooping around a bit. That's not weird or anything, right?”

“Well, it  _ is  _ your room,” said Maka.

Ah.

“Right. We have a magical pet cat too.”

“That we do.”

“How’d that even happen?”

Maka’s expression turned sour. “That was due to our biggest failure.”

Soul wanted to pry, but he could tell this was a sore spot for Maka. And for him too, judging by her wording. He decided to change the subject.

“So we’ve been living here for five years, right? Do we clean up after ourselves, or take turns, or have designated chores.”

Maka pointed towards the fridge. “There’s the weekly chores list. You, me, and Blair rotate through them, though we’ve started doing her share too since she’s actually using her money for rent now instead of new clothes.”

“Cool.” Soul paused. “Did I have a favorite chore?”

Maka snorted a bit. “Dishes. You like listening to music while you do them. And you’re honestly a better cook than me at this point. In return, I fold your laundry too.”

“How domestic,” Soul said with a laugh. “Talking about the old me and you sounds like an old married couple.”

CLANG.

Soul looked up at Maka dropped her fork on the ground. She blushed a bit, bending over to pick it up.

Soul felt guilty. “Sorry. Too inappropriate?”

“No no, it’s fine. You were joking.”

It was definitely not fine. Maka was taking an extra large drink of orange juice. Soul picked at a pancake. Was this sort of joking bad? Did Maka not like him teasing her about being in a relationship with him? Was that an untold rule that old Soul just knew and he, new Soul, had forgotten?

“I mean, it’s a fair assessment,” Maka said suddenly. “There are lots of weapons and meisters who end up in relationships. Like my parents.”

“Your parents were like us?”

“Yeah. Mom’s a meister, Dad’s the Death Scythe. They had me when they were eighteen, and got married soon after. Though they got divorced when I was thirteen.”

Soul nodded, choosing to shovel more pancake into his mouth. He tried to formulate a game plan in his head for the next couple of days.

Step One: no more awkward questions.

That seemed like a good starting place.

. . . . . . . . . .

The next few days was time at home. Soul spent it reacquainting himself with the apartment and getting used to Maka’s presence (and Maka getting back used to his presence as well.) Sure, Soul could have explored more, but they had almost two weeks for that. Besides, it was nice to spend a day at “home” after long travels. He’d asked her questions about various things in their tidy home, observed her habits and routines, talked about the photographs he found, about his pursuit in music.

Soaking up all the information in just this one place alone was tiring on his mind. Soul couldn’t imagine what it would be like to retrain at the DWMA.

What was frustrating about the whole process, though, was how little Soul was actually remembering. He’d panicked when Maka told him his towel had died when he couldn’t find it (an apparent inside joke they’d had for years, but still). He had a nosebleed from seeing Blair naked, which she teased him for relentlessly.

The worst was with Maka, though. It was almost like there was a barrier between him and her, and Soul had no idea how to get across it.

Trying to feel less useless,  Soul had insisted on helping with dinner the fourth night home. Maka was reluctant at first. It was difficult to get her to slow down enough for him to actually do anything. In the end though, Soul successfully convinced her that he wanted to feel helpful, wanted to learn how they worked together before, and that the only way to do that was to participate.

Even then, Maka was a control freak.

“Maybe I can wash dishes while you finish up the pasta?” he suggested.

“Relax! I’ve got it handled. I’ll get them later. Just get the potatoes out of the cupboard.”

It was frustrating, seeing her push herself so. Was she always this stubborn? Or had he become a burden already? Soul retrieved the potatoes and tossed them onto the cutting board. He also grabbed the nearby knife and peeler.

“Well, at least let me chop these, then.” 

“Soul, let me do it!” Maka snapped.

Soul felt a pang of irritation. Said irritation got the better of him.

“No,  _ I’m _ cutting the potatoes because you always do it weird!”

Both weapon and meister froze at that. Strange, they hadn’t had a single potato since his return. So how?

Maka was the first to speak. “Did you just—”

“I did,” Soul said, staring back at her, “didn’t I?”

Maybe… maybe there  _ was  _ hope! 

. . . . . . . . . .

Strange how silent the apartment was. There was no stirring about, no footsteps going back and forth, no music, no heavenly scents of food.

“Maka?”

A pause. No reply. Concerned, Soul stepped out of his room and into the kitchen. Answering his question was a note left on the counter.

_ Hey Soul, _

_ I had to run an errand for Kid back at the DWMA, so I won’t be home until the afternoon. We’re out of groceries (I forgot you didn’t know this week’s usually your turn). Run down to the market and grab some things. If a vendor calls you by name, just ask for the usual. _

_ Maka _

_ P.S. Grocery money’s in the leftmost cupboard in the kitchen, in the fish-looking thing. Though you say it looks like a dragon. Reusable bags are in the box next to the umbrella rack by the door. _

Soul frowned at the container. It...did resemble a dragon. Where did Maka see a fish in it? There was no way that face was a fish. He’d have to ask her about that later.

Shaking his head at the ambiguously-designed receptacle, Soul grabbed a few deathbucks from it and put it back on its shelf. He’d forgotten that Death City had its own currency due to the mass influence of the former shinigami. It was amazing that the system was still around.

Soul was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize he’d arrived at the market without a single wrong turn.

_ Strange,  _ he thought.  _ Maka never gave me directions to the place.  _ And yet here he was, roaming about it like he’d never left it in the first place. His instinct seemed to lead him right, though, so he continued following it.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Soul himself!”

Soul looked up from Maka’s letter, a short list jotted on the other side.  Sure enough, there was a portly woman with a big smile on his face waving him over.

“Heard from Miss Maka you were off on a mission out of the country with a few others. How was that?”

“Interesting,” he concluded. “Long story. Better saved for later.”

There, that answer would surely satisfy anyone who asked. By the time he was back out, they’d have forgotten to ask again. Soul glanced down at the bakery items presented. Unsure of what to pick, Soul recalled the letter:  _ just ask for the usual _ .

His pondering was interrupted, reminding Soul fo how long he’d been dumbfoundingly standing idle. “What, you forgot the taste of my bread, did you?”

_ Yes,  _ he thought, but tried to play along. He smiled instead, and said, “It’s been a while. I think you’ll have to remind me.”

The baker chortled. “Cheeky boy. Death’s weapon or not, you’ve been my favorite customer for five years!”

“Your bread is good enough for me to come back for five years, then.”

“Course it is!” The baker handed Soul a large bag with two loaves and a couple of chocolate croissants in it. “12.5, same as always.”

That didn’t seem right. Soul frowned. “Including the croissants?”

“Bah, that’s on the house! If you had your way, you’d probably buy them out and get a real tongue-lashing from your partner about it. I still remember when you two were about, oh I reckon 14? You spent 100 notes here and she smacked you across the head with a book! Called you a glutton, she did! You called her stingy in return.”

Soul chuckled. Everyday he learned something new. Chocolate croissants, huh? Sounded good! Also, these shopkeepers probably knew him better than he knew himself.

“Well, thanks! It was good seeing you again.”  _ Even though I don’t remember you _ .

The rest of the shopping continued like that. A stand owner would call out to Soul jovially, he’d make small talk while they all gave him the usual—sausages and beef, a surprisingly heavy bag of fish crackers for Blair, a small block of cheddar cheese and a much larger one of mozzarella, tomatoes, carrots, spinach, mushrooms, and a whole flock of spices Soul didn’t know the names or uses of—and sent him on his way. By the end of the afternoon Soul’s head was swimming with faces and his arms were laden with groceries.

Soul all but collapsed when he finally made it to the front door of the apartment. Five flights of stairs was much harder than he’d thought. How had Maka managed to carry his suitcase so easily while running up them last week? He should’ve taken the elevator!

Shaking his head and hoping Maka wasn’t in to see his weak, panting state, Soul unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Maka? Blair?”

No reply.

Soul kicked off his shoes and ambled into the kitchen. He began emptying all the bags and putting the perishables into the fridge. Then he went about washing the dishes because he felt he had nothing better to do. Thirty minutes later Soul was lounging on the couch with one of the old soul theory books that was in his room. The material was dense. How had he managed to remember all this at thirteen?

 . . . . . . . . . .

“Hey Soul.”

Soul looked up from from the couch, his books scattered on the cushion as Maka entered. She hung her keys on the ring next to the door and entered their apartment.

“Hey,” he greeted back. “How was your day?”

“Busy. Kid wanted to know how you were doing, and I had my last exam. Looks like you’ve been doing some recollecting.”

“Yeah… oh, sorry! Let me…” Soul panicked, picking up his materials into a neat stack again on a table beside him. “Here, have a seat.”

She sat down heavily on the couch next to Soul. He decided not to comment on the distance she purposely put between them, cleaned up mess or not.

“How was shopping?” Maka asked.

“Good,” Soul said, surprised by his own honesty. “Everyone was super nice. It was cool.”

“You always liked going out and gossiping with the market people,” Maka mused. “Then you’d call me a introvert and force me outside.”

Soul grinned. He did enjoy hearing about this, though there was always a pang of longing accompanied with each missing memory discussed.

“I took you for an outdoorsy type.”

“Death no! I’m much happier inside with a book.”

Standing back up, Maka made her way back to the kitchen, pondering a hot tea. There was always something soothing about a hot tea after a long day. She’d expected to have to hunt, after realizing she didn’t tell her partner where anything was supposed to go. Instinctively, she checked the first place she always did. Top cabinet above the stove.

_ Lucky guess maybe _ ?  Oh, well she was already in the kitchen anyway. No harm in getting everything else arranged back to normal! Opening cabinet after cabinet, it seemed strange. Everything was right where she would expect them to be. And she hadn’t even told him where to put them!

“Is everything okay, Maka?” Soul asked ten cabinet doors later. Oh Death, had he forgotten something?

“You put the groceries back in the right place,” Maka noted.

Soul sat up. “Really?”

The meister was regarding the open refrigerator carefully.

“Yeah,” she concluded, “you did. Guess that means something is coming back to you, huh?”

“It could be muscle memory…” But Soul did feel a bit hopeful by that. It’d only been five days and he’d already began falling into a rhythm. It felt nice to be doing something everyone was deeming right.

Which reminded him…

“So, care to tell me about the dragon-fish?”

Maka groaned loudly. “I am  **not** having this argument with someone who can’t remember the first six hundred times we’ve been over this!”

“All the more reason to tell me it again,” Soul countered. “I need to hear your side of the story. Who knows? Maybe I’ll agree with you this time.”

“You won’t, and you should know that!”

Soul shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“I swear, Soul! I’m not doing this! Just accept that it’s a fish!  End of story.”

There was no winning this, so Soul opted to change the topic. They had plenty of chances to argue later. “So… when am I going to get to see the DWMA again?”

This got a gasp from his meister. “I almost forgot!”

“Hm?”

“I was asked by Dr. Stein to bring you back to school in two days.” Maka paused. “You remember him, right?”

Soul hesitated. “Um…”

“He was one of the doctors who was with you during recovery after you woke up.”

Oh, that’s what Maka meant by it. Soul relaxed a bit. “Yeah, him. The guy with the weird scars all over him. Why him?”

“Right, you don’t know. He’s one of the teachers. Probably the most powerful meister alive at the moment. His wife’s a Death Scythe and a teacher at the DWMA as well.”

Soul’s jaw dropped. “Wait, really? That’s so cool!”

“I’m actually babysitting their daughter tomorrow, if you want to come along.”

“They have a kid?!”

Maka smirked. “There’s a betting pool on whether or not she’ll be a meister or a weapon.”

“And… Have you bet?”

“She’ll be a weapon,” said Maka with confidence. “She and her mother, Marie, are really similar. You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Stein’s house was more interesting than anything. It carried a blend of homeliness, and yet a feeling of experimentation. With no real theme, various knick knacks screamed both “scientist” and “soldier” at the same time. Soul and Maka sat on an obviously home-reupholstered couch, stitches where people normally didn’t repair, but instead replaced.

Victoria Stein, their young daughter, resembled her mom more than her dad. She had bright brown eyes and ashy hair that curled around the bottom. She was all smiles and pep. Soul was immediately put at ease by her presence, the young girl warming up to him in a matter of seconds and taking his hand, dragging him over to the living room where there was a pen of guinea pigs set up.

“You can play with Mr. Fluffles!” she chirped, plopping one of them casually into Soul’s lap.

Mr. Fluffles squeaked indignantly, trying to scratch and flee from Soul’s lap. The weapon held on for dear life. The look he shot Maka was a mix of fear and hopelessness, which made Maka in turn laugh.

“She seems to really like you,” Marie began. “Can you look after her, Soul? Maka and I will make some tea.”

“Oh, um, sure?” The guinea pigs alone would be enough to keep Victoria occupied.

Maka followed behind Marie until they were out of Soul’s sight.

“So, how are things going, Maka?”

“They’re okay,” the meister replied. “It’s been a bit weird trying to adjust without the…intimacy.”

“I can imagine.”

“But… he  _ is  _ starting to remember some things. He put all the groceries away without being told where or how. He found the marketplace and his way back home alone. So I guess that’s one good thing. I just… I don’t know. It’s still off, somewhat. I just wish I knew how long I’ll have to wait for everything to be normal again.”

“If he’s remembering things now, I’m certain he’ll eventually be back around. Just give it some time, okay?”

Maka nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to swell in her eyes. Marie was right. She just needed to be patient. “Yeah. I supposed I’m just happy to have him back home, at least.”

Marie smiled, wrapping her arms around Maka in a tight hug. “I’m so glad!”

Holding Maka at an arm’s length to look the meister in the eyes again. “See? It’s all starting to look up!”

Just then, the sound of a door interrupted their personal conversation.

Marie looked up. “Oh, looks like Dad’s home.”

“Hey guinea pig!” Stein called out.

“Daddy!”

Marie was smiling happily as she walked back into the living room to greet her husband. Soul was sitting in shock over the fact that Dr. Stein had just called his daughter a guinea pig.

“How’s my little girl??”

“I’m GREAT!” Victoria stood and ran as well as a toddler could to Soul’s side, a guinea pig in her tight squeeze. “Mr. Soul here is playing with me!”

The doctor looked back at Soul, who continued to struggle in keeping Mr. Fluffles in control. He chuckled a bit. “Soul, good to see you again. How has your reintegration been going?”

“It’s going good. A lot of… information to take in, I suppose?” It was hard to say things were normal, when he wasn’t sure what ‘normal’ was yet. The small amount of time he’d been back in Death City wasn’t truly enough to offer a comparison opinion.

“Of course. Well, don’t worry, we won’t be long tonight. You’ll get to rest that mind of yours soon.” The gaze in Dr. Stein’s eyes seemed to express something further, something unspoken. It made Soul wonder just what was soon to come.

Stein smiled. It seemed uncharacteristically bright. “Well then, I have dinner plans with my lovely wife. See you tomorrow!”

And with that, it was him and Mr. Fluffles sitting in the middle of the living room. Soul eyed the guinea pig, who had calmed down considerably.

“Alright man, it’s us and this little girl. We gotta keep her entertained. Are you with me?”

The guinea pig, as all guinea pigs do, just squeaked. Soul nodded.

“Good man.”

From across the room, Maka watched on with a smile on her face.

Maybe things weren’t perfect, but they were getting there.


	11. The Death Weapon Meister Academy, Revisited

“Soul, wake up or we’re going to be late!”

“But it’s so earrrrrllly.” He was definitely spoiled from his free time.

“Soul.”

“Just ten more minutes,” he mumbled.

“You said that three more times before. No more! We have to go!”

Groaning as he sat up, sheets falling from his warm, snuggled spot, Soul knew the first day would be a challenging change, but 6:30 am?

“...fine. I’m up.”

“No, you’re not. Out of bed. Now!”

First leg, then the second. Moving wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to do, but this was what he signed up for. At a stand, Soul fumbled about for some clothes, picking the best he could for such a tired state of mind. How Maka was already up and dressed, he wasn’t sure. Surely his meister wasn’t human.

A three-minute shower later, and words came to his mouth easier. Dressed and ready to depart, he grabbed two granola bars for the trip, tossing one to Maka. 

“Thanks! Alright, let’s go!”

Maka lead the two of them to the alley next to their building. Soul thought they would be taking a cab, but he was surprised to see Maka taking the cover off of a shiny orange motorcycle. He gasped, eyes lighting up. It was exactly his taste, and in his favorite color. The strangest part was that he felt like he knew exactly what that vehicle yet.

Maka held up a keyring. “Ready?”

“I have a motorbike?!”

“Had it since fourteen,” Maka said. “Driving laws here are a bit looser than the rest of the states. Now come on! It’s faster than walking.”

Soul frowned. Was it safe for him to drive? Oh, who cared? This was a dream come true! Soul took the keys from Maka’s waiting hand and sat on the seat smoothly. He revved the engine, feeling powerful.

“Wow.”

“Stop being awestruck and get us there,” Maka said, clambering on behind him and putting on her own helmet.

The ample parking by the DWMA was pretty great. Soul was impressed. What impressed him both equally and a lot less was the sight before him. Nothing could have prepared him for what he would face next.

Before them were rows upon rows of massive stairs that looked to be five miles long from where they stood. Why hadn’t Maka mentioned this?!

“What the hell are these steps?”

“What?” Maka looked back to where Soul was standing, staring up. “Oh, the stairs? They’re excellent training for meisters and weapons alike.”

Soul let out a low whine. Training, huh. He glanced around for any other options. No one prepared him for this!

“Let’s go. We’re behind schedule as it is!”

And with that Soul watched in awe and horror as Maka began to run up the stairs two at a time. His suspicion was confirmed: Maka was  _ definitely  _ not human! Keeping up with her two steps verses his untrained single steps was impossible. 

_ I should’ve picked up two granola bars for this. And a bottle of water. _

Soul stopped, bent down with his hands resting on his knees to catch his breath after a couple of minutes.

“This school is not handicap accessible in the slightest, is it?” he panted out.

“Hm?” Maka turned, then giggled. “Oh, no. There’s an elevator for injured students and staff, but it’s a nightmare to find it. It’s practically in a maze.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I am.”

Soul glared, which only made Maka laugh a bit more. She waved for him to follow.

Several pants, coughs and whines later, the nightmare was over, sun blazing over them sapping all the energy out of Soul. He  _ really  _ should have brought some water. The top! They actually reached a  _ top  _ to the stairway.

Before them was an amazing view, though, one he only remembered from a photograph. Grand doors with skulls as handles. Large, outward candles seeming to remain lit by the sun itself (otherwise they were too high to reach!). Crowds among them, everyone with an agenda to reach. Being a student here must have meant busy schedules, with all the hustling and bustling about. Wait, but wasn’t it….

Soul broke his silent thought as they entered the large doors for an answer to his curiosity. “So, Maka, it’s technically summer break, right?”

Maka nodded. “Yeah, most of the classes are out. Exams are pretty much done.”

“So why are there so many people here?”

“We still have training grounds, study rooms, and missions available, so most of us choose to stay instead of going home. There’s also employment options for E.A.T. students, so we actually get paid for summer missions.”

“And N.O.T. students?”

“A lot choose to study here with their partners so they can get to E.A.T. status. Some go home, some stay in Death City and work summer jobs. It’s honestly whatever they feel they want or need.”

“What did we do?” Soul asked.

Maka paused, then turned with a bit of a laugh. “We trained of course! You wouldn’t be a Death Scythe if we didn’t, even if you hated being dragged around to do this.”

“I’m a weapon, it’s not like I can feel exhaustion,” Soul quipped back. “It’s you who overworked yourself, being a meister and all. Swinging me around pointlessly.”

“Ugh, you’re always like this Soul—” And then she paused. “You always said that to me when I pushed myself…”

“I must be remembering something, right? I mean, why else would I be saying things like this?”

Soul wanted to talk more, but he was interrupted by a cheerful voice.

“Oh look, they’re here!”

Marie came over, waving. Her husband was right behind her. Maka smiled and waved them over. 

“Soul, I'm sure you remember both Professor Marie and Dr. Stein.”

“I do,” he said as he shook their hands again. “Well, I do from yesterday.”

Marie was all smiles. “Kid asked us to help with your reintegration to the DWMA for the next couple of weeks. Since it's the first day, we’ll both be here, but in future sessions it'll probably just be one or the other since we have to take care of Victoria.”

Dr. Stein didn't say a word, but Soul could feel his eyes boring into him.

“Well then,” Maka said brightly, “I have a meeting with Kid, so I have to go. Let me know if you need anything else. He's taking calls to his office if need be.”

She then turned to Soul and spoke more quietly. “Make sure to ask any questions. Marie and Stein are the best of the best in the world. And you have training with Black*Star as well.”

“Got it.”

“Good. I'll cook dinner tonight, so I'll see you then.”

She squeezed his hand once before leaving. Soul wasn't sure why, but he felt a slight ache in his heart as Maka left.

. . . . . . . . . .

“A sound soul resides in a sound mind and a sound body.” Marie began to write on the board. “The body is merely what holds the soul, while the mind is what dictates the body’s actions. If either of these are damaged, weakened, or altered in any way, the soul will show the adverse effects of it.”

_ Souls like his? Souls that can’t remember their previous training? _

“What makes the soul particularly tricky is that it's harder to heal. Once too much damage is taken, it becomes corrupted. It's these corrupted souls that we meisters and weapons collect. When a soul has been corrupted to the point of no return, the name of the individual will appear on the shinigami’s list. Kid then puts up advertisements of missions and their difficulties, which a group will then choose”

“Why collect them?” asked Soul.

“Well first off, to prevent them from being revived and released to cause more chaos. Secondly, they enhance the abilities and strength of weapons,” Stein answered in turn.

Soul turned to look at Stein in intrigue. “Weapons like me?”

“Yes. Although, you’re already a deathscythe, so there will be no need for you to absorb any more than you have. You see, it takes 99 kishin souls and one witch soul to successfully absorb the power of their magic and alter to an advanced form like yours. Other students, on the other hand, will be continuing to collect them for themselves, aside from the witch souls that are protected by the treaty.”

“Why would I be needed then? If I already reached that level, then…”

“It doesn’t mean you’re not needed, Soul. There’s a lot of corrupted souls out there that those underneath you can’t handle. That’s when it becomes your duty to collect them for the sake of safety. Being a death scythe is, as Marie would say, a duty and an oath of protection and loyalty.”

Soul nodded. But there was one aspect bothering him since his discovery. Maybe Marie was the perfect person to answer it, being a death scythe herself. It was something he had to know for his own comfort.

“One question, though, since I’m a weapon. Does that mean I’m not human?”

“Technically? Yes and no,” said Marie. “None of us weapons are 100% human. We’re weapons, after all. What’s important isn’t our body, however. It’s the soul. You never did have soul perception like Maka, but you had seen plenty of souls in your lifetime.”

Something flashed before Soul’s eyes for a brief second. A red light? Blue lights arranged like a musical score. A warm hand in his. A melody.

Soul shook his head a bit, but the image was gone before he could get a grasp of it. Something about them made him yearn more. Were those some of his memories?

Marie, sensing the younger weapon’s unease, took his hands in hers. Soul was instantly soothed.

Stein’s curiosity brought another wonder, though. “Have you tried transforming since the day you rediscovered you’re a weapon?”

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Should I’ve done that?”

“Not necessarily, but that does mean we should work on that here too,” said Stein. “I’m sure Maka will begin to work on that with you when you two do one-on-one combat training.”

“I see.”

“But today,” Marie interrupted, “we should focus on theory. Did you bring any of your books?”

“No…”

“That’s fine! Here’s a spare notebook. And a pen. Take notes! My husband will definitely give you a quiz at the end!”

A quiz… Something began niggling in the back of Soul’s mind.

“This is kind of a dumb question, but um...was I the type of guy who wouldn’t study for a big test and instead cover himself in a bunch of notes so he’s one giant cheat sheet?”

Both Stein and Marie exchanged a shocked look.

“Why do you ask?” asked Stein.

Soul scratched the back of his neck. “I found some old notebooks in my room I was going through the other day, and one of them was full of old notes. I felt like I remembered something, but that was way too ridiculous to be real, right?”

Marie laughed a bit. “It’s true that it is ridiculous!”

“Well, and it is true that you did that once, yes,” Stein added.

Soul perked up at that. “I did?”

Stein nodded. “Shortly after I became a full-time staff member here, there was the big yearly exam. I wrote it, and Sid helped administer it. He caught you five minutes in. Everything except your shoes and underwear were covered in notes, apparently. Still managed a 35/100 on that one too.”

Soul blushed a shade just as scarlet as his eyes. “Uh… r-right. Well, I guess we can say that won’t happen again.”

“Maybe I’ll test you again just for the fun of it, then.”

Soul’s eyes widened in panic. He could have sworn he saw a faltering crack in his deadpan serious stare though.

“Just kidding. At any rate, I do believe you have another training session coming up. I can guide you there if you wish.”

“I’ll take him down,” Marie volunteered, standing. She gave Stein a quick peck on the forehead. “Tell Victoria I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“Will do.” The doctor stood, brushing down his jacket. “Take care, Soul.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Soul and Marie disappeared from sight as she lead the young weapon out of the room.

“So… where are we going again?” Soul asked.

Marie flashed a soft smile. “Black*Star wanted to meet you in the lower grounds behind the school.”

Something was bothering Soul. He felt like he could not to trust Marie, but he wasn’t sure why. She seemed like a super nice person. Just being in her presence had a calming effect on him (which, according to Maka, was due to her soul). He seriously doubted he had bad enough memories of her locked away to distrust her like this. Soul ignored them and continued walking.

Twenty minutes later, he was beginning to see why he was so hesitant to follow Marie.

“I think it’s just down this way!” she huffed, leading him down yet another hallway.

A few hallways later, and she ran smack dab into another student. “Oh dear!”

Kilik turned his eyes to Soul. His expression carried a joyous greeting. “You guys trying to get somewhere?”

“You know it! Just to the outdoor training grounds. So much to do, so little time!” Marie declared. “This one will be fun though, Soul. Combat!”

Soul paled slightly, unsure if he was truly ready for it. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that these people were professionals. They knew exactly what they were doing.

“I’ll take him down, Marie. I was going to mediate anyway.”

“Would you Kilik? That’d be amazing!”

Marie hummed for a moment, taking a glance left, right… then a small dash of the foot after what seemed that she’d made up her mind.

“Marie!” Kilik called out before she could disappear.

Marie halted to a stop, turning. “Hm?”

Kilik was pointing towards the hallway on his left.

“Main entrance is that way, if you wanna get home faster.”

“Oh!” She flushed a brilliant shade of magenta. “Right. Thank you, Kilik.”

Once the flustered professor walked away, the kid just shook his head. “Honestly, everyone should’ve warned you not to ever trust Marie with directions. She’s been here for four years and still can’t find her way around this building.”

“Who are you?”

“Right, my bad. Keep forgetting you don’t remember all of us.” The black man held out a fist. “Kilik Rung, two-star meister.”

Soul pounded it, grinning. “Good to re-meet you, Kilik.”

“Likewise. Now, let’s run over. Black*Star’s not known for his promptness, but it’s still good to be there on time so we can make fun of him for it later.”

Soul’s grin widened. Just a moment in the other’s presence and he could see why he and Kilik were friends before. They took a light jog through the near-empty hallways of the school.

“So you’re a meister, right? Who are your weapons?”

“Fire and Thunder. They’re actually Earth Shamans, but they’re still young, so their powers aren’t fully developed yet.”

“I see.”

Kilik grinned. “How’d you know I had two? Did someone tell you?”

Soul paused. “Two?”

“You said ‘weapons,’ not ‘weapon.’ Figured Maka told you about me.”

Soul shook his head. “I’m not sure. Just knew, I guess. Maybe from all the pictures.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Kilik opened a side door. “It’s this way. There’s a clearing behind the trees.”

Soul was quite surprised to see the sheer number of trees growing in the middle of the garden. Maybe there was some sort of magic here? He wasn’t sure, but he decided not to question it too much.

“Well, looks who’s late!”

Kilik and Soul looked up to see Black*Star hanging upside down from one of the trees. Kilik just laughed.

“Look who’s on time, you mean. You actually showed up before you needed to. I’m impressed!”

Black*Star hopped down, laughing loudly. “I needed to be ready to beat this guy to a pulp.”

Soul frowned. Beating? What?!

“We’re going to spar?” he asked.

“Of course!” said Black*Star, stretching with ease. “It’s a good way to get your sad, flabby body back into shape. It’s the least a god like myself can do!”

Soul wasn’t self-conscious of his body, but being called ‘sad’ and ‘flabby’ definitely was a blow to his self-esteem. He’d been pretty impressed with his cool, adult body when he first checked himself out in the mirror back home, despite the large scar across his chest.

Soul started stretching too, unsure how things were going to go. Black*Star was the first to feel ready.

“Block me!” he shouted, before launching himself at the unready weapon.

Soul could not keep up with the speed of the meister. He ended up just ducking with his arms around his face, hoping he was a small enough target. It ended up not working. Black*Star’s barrage of punches and kicks kept hitting their mark.

“A sound soul resides in a sound mind and a sound body!” Black*Star chimed as he parried Soul’s punch and hit him soundly in the side, knocking the breath out of the weapon. “We’re gonna make sure that body of yours is super sound. Use your abs!”

Soul sucked desperately at the air, but stood.

“Do the basics!” Kilik called from the sidelines. “Form. He needs better form.”

“He knows form!”

Less than ten seconds passed before Soul landed on his butt. Kilik sighed. He stepped in and blocked Black*Star’s attack.

“Dude!”

“Dude yourself, idiot. You’re just beating him up at this point.”

“ _ He’s _ the one not blocking correctly!” the blue-haired boy bit back.

Kilik rolled his eyes. “Come on man, I know you know hand-to-hand combat. But Soul doesn’t remember it, and muscle memory only gets you so far.”

“Why don’t you teach him then, if you’re so good.”

“Maybe I will, O Godly One!”

After the two gave each other joking bows, Kilik helped Soul to his feet.

“You alright man?”

“I’ll live,” he settled on.

“You didn’t get this far with sloppy basics. And I know, cuz we’ve sparred with our weapons too. In the past.” He patted Soul down. “Relax, alright? I’m just going to fix your posture.”

Kilik started moving Soul’s limbs into the correct position, talking the whole time.

“You need to keep your center of balance low. Bend your knees. Keep your stance either straight or to the side. You’ll want to make sure no one can hit you, and if they do you won’t fall over. Arms guard the face. Feet shoulder-width apart. Tighten your core...and breathe.”

Soul took a deep breath. Kilik grinned.

“Already looking better, man. Alright Black*Star, he’s all yours! And slow it down too, it’s day one for this kid!”

“Roger that!”

Soul readied himself for the battle of a lifetime. He stepped out of the way and tried to throw a punch, which Black*Star blocked with ease. However, the meister was grinning.

“I see you remember how to hit like a girl.”

Soul laughed. “I wanna hear you say that to Maka!”

From the other side of the clearing, they could hear Kilik yell, “Oh shiiiiiiit!”

Soul’s smart mouth got the better of him as he found himself on the ground yet again. He got up, preparing for more.

“Power position!”

Soul did his best to adjust, sweeping his left leg back and putting his arms up. He barely had a chance to take a breath before Black*Star was before him, kicking down from the sky with a loud YAHOOOOOOOOOO!!!

It was like watching the fight in slow motion. Soul crossed his arms in front of his face, bracing for impact.

_ I can’t dodge it,  _ he realized. He shut his eyes in fear—

—and then there was a flash of light and a metallic clang.

Soul fell back onto his butt yet again in the most uncool of manners. He opened his eyes, shocked to see both his arms had formed into blades. Black*Star, completely unfazed, landed another blow to him, which left him on the ground for good.

Kilik was obviously unimpressed.

“Black*Star, you suck at this.”

“Hah! As if a god like myself would be horrible at teaching his disciples.”

“Yeah, and ‘his disciples’ wouldn’t be lying on the ground in pain after ten minutes if you were teaching them right,” Kilik pointed out. “Geez man, go a bit easy on him. Soul still can’t control his weapon form, so he can’t guard you like he could before this whole mess.”

Black*Star jabbed a thumb back at Soul’s body sprawled on the ground. “Still managed that last guard. I say he’s already doing better.”

“A fluke!”

“Why don’t we just make him fight with his arms like that then? Then he should get the hang of it.”

Black*Star didn’t even bother waiting for a reply, instead going straight for Soul as soon as he was off the ground. Kilik just sighed and watched the two run around. At least their bantering was fun. There was that usual level of familiarity it always had, despite Soul having lost his memories.

Half an hour later the two sat down on the stone wall surrounding the training area, panting. Well, Soul was panting. Black*Star was just stretching as if nothing had happened.

“Girls should be back from their shopping spree soon,” Black*Star noted.

Kilik laughed. “Guess you should call it a day then. Soul still has to walk down the stairs and all.”

Black*Star waved it off dismissively. Soul paled. He’d forgotten about the stairs.

“Get rid of your blades, Soul!”

“R-right.” Fumbling with the feeling, Soul willed his arms back into arm form. It was still an odd sensation to feel the blood rushing through his limbs again. It was foreign. Beside him, Kilik handed him a protein bar and a container of chocolate milk.

“Eat up. Knowing Maka, she’s gonna feed you well, but you’ll need some energy to get home.”

“Thanks.”

Kilik grinned. “Sure thing. Oi Black*Star, you want one?”

“Toss it over!”

Soul chewed his bar in silence, staring out over the city from his perch. The lower training grounds had a breathtaking view, he had to admit. The breeze wasn’t necessarily cool, but it was definitely cooler than what he’d expected. The sunset over Death City was also nice. Soul could imagine a song for it, as the sunset bled into twilight, and then nighttime.

His fingers began to subconsciously tap away the melody.

Black*Star noticed and laughed. “What, you’re just gonna sit there and not play for us?”

“Huh?” Soul’s fingers stopped. “What do you mean?”

Black*Star gave him a meaningful look, then pointed at his leg. “Your blade also comes in piano mode. Like, a white piano with wings. Kinda hard to explain.”

“I can do that?” Soul blurted out, wide-eyed.

“Oh yeah, soon after the Fight on the Moon, you’d been able to make piano blades pretty regularly,” Kilik said offhandedly. “Used to annoy Maka by playing meme music on your leg when she wouldn’t lay off.”

“Yeah, I remember that! Probably why she decided not to mention that to you when you got home!”

Black*Star and Kilik laughed at that. Soul stared down at his leg thoughtfully.

“A piano, huh?” he murmured under his breath.

There was that light again. And just like that, there was a blade covered in a standard keyboard’s range of keys across his leg.

Rather than thinking it through too much, Soul set his fingers down and began to play. Despite the fact that it was just his leg, it had good acoustics. He played slow and steady, letting the music take over. By the time he’d finished, the sun had set completely and the city was washed in a golden light.

“Cool,” Soul breathed, his leg returning to normal.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to hear you play, dude. This was nice. Should crash more trainings if they end like this.” Kilik checked his watch. “Well, I should go. The twins’ll be wondering why I’m not home. Later!”

“See ya!”

Black*Star waved as Kilik went running down the stairs. The other meister got up and stretched.

“Well, that’s all for today, and a god like me needs a feast to survive. Ready to head back to town? I can walk you home.”

Soul smiled. “Yeah, that’d be cool. Thanks.”

He made to stand up, but immediately collapsed. Soul groaned. His legs were barely able to hold his weight. Black*Star just laughed.

“Come on! Moving will get that lactic acid build up outta there! Honestly, you’ll be in less pain if you walk.”

Soul blanched. Oh Death, he was going to be sore tomorrow!

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul bid Black*Star goodbye as the other lead him all the way to the right street. He was honestly ready for a hot shower and a cold glass of water. And dinner. Dinner sounded like a great idea. As Soul walked towards his apartment, he saw someone standing outside. They were staring up at the window on the fifth floor. Was there someone lurking outside the building?

Soul decided to investigate. He snuck up behind the perpetrator and went to smack him across the back of his neck, only for the person to turn around and grab him, effectively pinning Soul to the ground.

“Oh.” The voice of a man. “It’s just you.”

Soul felt himself getting hauled to his feet. He was about to protest when he saw who had pinned him down. His jaw went slack.

“You’re the Death Scythe, Spirit Albarn!”

Spirit raised an eyebrow. “You actually remember me?”

“Yeah. Okay, not really. I mean, when I did a bit more research about the DWMA I saw your picture. It says on the website you’re the current personal weapon of Lord Death.”

Spirit snorted a bit. “In title, maybe, but the current Lord Death has never wielded me. I was used more by his father before him.”

Oh. Soul scratched at the back of his head. That was awkward. Soul - 0, the current employed Death Scythe and his roommate’s father - 1.

Spirit was leaning in a bit towards Soul. The younger Death Scythe swallowed.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked nervously.

“Oh, nothing really. I just had one thing to say. Lay a hand on my daughter and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Soul blanched. Spirit continued to give him the stink eye before beaming brightly (in a manner identical to Maka) and laughing.

“Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve said that and you were genuinely scared. You used to be so dismissive, calling me an old coot!”

Soul just stared at him open-mouthed. Seriously? What was up with this guy? Was he really Maka’s dad? There was a resemblance in the nose and the smile, but it could've been a fluke.

Spirit tousled his hair. “Well kid, take care. I’ve got a dinner meeting. Say hi to Maka for me.”

Soul was left standing in the middle of the sidewalk more bewildered than not.

What the hell?

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m starting to feel like every Death Scythe has a fatal flaw. Like, crazy levels of uncool fatal.”

“Did Marie try to give you directions today?” Maka asked, not looking up from the sink from where she was washing dishes.

Soul turned to look at her from the couch. “How’d you know?”

Maka laughed a bit. “I heard from Kilik that you’d gotten lost today trailing Marie.”

“You saw Kilik?”

“His home's neat the market, so I bumped into him. He said Black*Star basically beat you to a pulp without giving any direction.”

Soul wanted to deny it, but flashes from earlier that day popped into his mind and he shivered. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I'll talk to him too. Honestly, he volunteered because you two are all buddy-buddy, but I doubt you'll learn much from him. I'll ask Kilik to keep hanging around.”

“Thanks.” Soul remembered something else. “Oh yeah. I also ran into your dad on the way home. He says hi.”

There was a sound of shattering glass. Soul looked over to see Maka had dropped one of the cups she was drying.

“You what?!”

Soul was confused. “Um, yeah? I saw him.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“He just said that he’d kill me if I touched you, and then laughed about how it was the first time I’d ever been scared of him.” Soul sighed and shrugged. “Honestly, he’s crazy. I’m not so uncool as to just hit on you because we’re living together.”

Maka bit back her sour expression. “Right.”

“Seriously. I wouldn’t. I respect you too much for that.”

Soul got up to talk to Maka. He leaned on the counter by the sink, watching Maka carefully.

“I may not remember it, but you were the meister who made me a Death Scythe. We were partners. Everyone keeps saying our resonance was the strongest out there.” Soul trailed off, then looked away. “I owe you my entire life in Death City, Maka.”

Maka looked up at him. Something in her eyes made him stay there, not sure what to do. Nothing was the best thing to do, it seemed, as Soul felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He inhaled sharply, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. Why was he crying? Why?

Maka’s face was buried in his shoulder. He could feel her breathing, deep and steady, and he matched her breath for breath. Soul hugged her back, one hand burying itself in Maka’s loose hair while the other pressed against the small of her back, bringing her closer. He could feel Maka’s fingertips scratching gently right where his neck stuck out from his shirt.

A whole minute later, Maka’s breath shuddered and she pulled away.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “That was weird.”

Soul just shook his head. It wasn’t weird. In fact, it felt nice. The only weird thing to him was the way his heart fluttered and the way his chest hurt as Maka pulled away, as if he was losing something that should’ve been there.


	12. Matters of the Soul

After another grueling three days of physical training with Black*Star, Soul felt like death. He could feel the exhaustion coursing through his veins each day. His body was constantly sore. When he woke up on that Friday, all Soul could do was roll over. He finally forced his body out of bed and practically crawled to the kitchen.

“Afternoon,” said Maka.

Blair was also there. “You look sore.”

“I am,” he said, sitting on the couch. “Is it really afternoon?”

“One o’clock. Black*Star came by, but I shooed him away.”

So no workout today. Soul didn’t even try to hide his relief.

“Is it even healthy to be working out this much?” he asked Maka as she clicked her tongue at a bruise swelling on his cheek.

“It’s never bothered your before,” Maka said as she tossed him a bag of frozen peas. “Granted, usually you’re a weapon and I’m the one covered in bruises.”

Soul hummed in relief as he placed the makeshift ice pack on his face. Maka flopped down on the couch next to him a moment later.

“I’ve asked Black*Star to let you rest up this weekend,” Maka said.

“Seriously?”

“He doesn’t need you to be his punching bag, unless you want to be.” After Soul shook his head firmly, Maka smiled and continued. “I want you to focus on relaxing the next couple of days. Starting Monday, I’ll be doing resonance training with you. We’ll incorporate some fitness too, just so Black*Star won’t write you off for slacking.”

“Thanks.”

The weekend proved to be relaxing. Soul spent most of it sleeping, but the days he was feeling up to it he went on short walks around town. Somehow he was always able to find his way back to the apartment, though the weapon wasn't sure if this was from past memories or not.

Monday came sooner than not, and Soul found himself once again hiking up the impossible steps to the DWMA’s main entrance. He followed Maka to the room where they would begin resonance training.

“In here,” she said, beckoning Soul over. “It should be empty since I reserved it, not that anyone uses it in the summer.”

Soul was surprised to see that Maka had lead them into what looked like a dojo. She removed her shoes in the entrance, bowed once, and entered. Soul copied her. He whistled a bit as he did a full circle. The dojo was much bigger than he’d expected. There was enough space for at least a hundred people to compete without worry of bumping into one another.

“Catch!”

Soul looked up and barely managed to catch the long staff Maka had thrown at him. He held it in both hands, staring at it with uncertainty. Maka had her own, stretching with practiced ease. She beckoned Soul in a bit closer.

“Ready to start?”

Soul frowned. “Are we fighting?”

“Somewhat.”

“I thought we were doing resonance training.”

“Oh, we are!” Maka chirped. “Just leave it to me.”

Maka took a few steps around the mat that she selected for the two of them to work on. After taking a deep breath, she widened her stance. Soul recognized it was similar to how Kilik taught him to stand. He mimicked the meister again

Maka twirled the staff in her hand and faced Soul.

“Hit me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hit me with your staff.” Maka’s grin became a bit more playful. She raised an eyebrow. “What? Afraid you can’t?”

_ Yes,  _ Soul thought, but he gripped his own weapon tightly.

Maka hopped back with ease as Soul took a jab at her. Soul tried again, watching the way Maka stepped away.

_ Footwork, watch her feet. Watch the way her hips move. _

Soul tried a sweeping attack to the meister’s feet. She jumped up and stepped down on his staff, making Soul lose his grip on it.

“Again.”

Soul picked up the staff. He tried striking anywhere Maka was, but she kept dodging him. After a couple of minutes, Soul stopped.

“Why am I trying to hit you?”

“Because you need to see how to dodge. Now it’s my turn.”

Soul was barely able to get out of the way as Maka attacked him. While she let him regroup, she began to talk.

“Resonance isn’t one-sided,” Maka said as she thrust the bo staff forward. Soul parried and countered it with his own strike, which the meister easily blocked. “It’s a form of communication. Action and reaction. Constantly moving, changing. But it’s stable.”

Soul tried to hold his ground, but he knew he was nearing the wall. All he could do was hold the staff and continue to block her attacks.

Maka continued. “Resonance is something you feel, not see. It’s deep in your soul. It connects you to another. It connects us. So by the time we’re done—”

**CLACK!**

Soul dropped the staff after a sharp hit to the hand. A second later he was against the wall with Maka pointing the staff straight at his throat. She was grinning.

“—it’ll be as natural as breathing.”

Soul clicked his tongue with irritation.

“What does any of this have to do with resonance?” Soul asked. “I’m a weapon, aren’t I? I don’t see why hand-to-hand combat is important. Shouldn’t we be, like, sitting and trying to connect wavelengths or something?”

“It’s because you’re a weapon that you need to know this,” Maka replied. “Specifically, my weapon. If there are any openings in my defense or any shortcomings in my offense, you are the first one to cover me. You’re the only one who can and ever will perfectly understand my fighting style and its failings.

“…of course, that  _ was  _ Black*Star’s job to explain it all.”

“It must’ve slipped his mind,” said Soul.

“Not surprised.”

Maka bent down and handed Soul his staff. Once he took it in his hand, she led him back to the center of the map.

“Once we train up your body and reflexes again, we’ll get into the more nitty-gritty resonance training with Dr. Stein. For the time being we’ll stick to this. Once you get the hang of it, we’ll train with some of the other partners here to get you used to combat.”

“Then why have me train with Black*Star? Not,” Soul added quickly, “that I think he’s not a cool guy. He’s chill. It’s just, if I’m doing hand-to-hand combat with you, then I don’t have to do it with him, right?”

“Black*Star is the best hand-to-hand fighter at this school, only rivaling Patty, and she’s always busy with Kid,” Maka explained. “Also, Black*Star’s job is to help you in case you’re ever in a situation where you can’t transform, or I’m suddenly unable to wield you. A meisterless weapon should still be able to hold their own.”

Soul was frowning. He’d been injured when he couldn’t transform. Was that why Maka was so insistent on this?

_ Might as well go with it. I might get the hang of this resonance thing. _

Soul readied himself. A moment later he and Maka were going through the motions of combat again. She, thankfully enough, started slow. It was slower than before, when she’d whacked his hand with no preamble.

When Soul inquired about that later, Maka just laughed a bit.

“That’s the speed we’re aiming for,” she said. “In combat, it’s usually that fast, if not faster.”

Faster than that?! Soul blanched a bit. He couldn’t even see Maka move. How was he supposed to learn how to keep up with that.

As if sensing his unease, Maka gave Soul a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll take is slow until you’re ready. It took us a couple of years before we could get into the swing of things anyway. I’m sure your body still remembers how to do it.”

Slow, Soul soon learned, wasn’t the meister’s usual pace.

Maka was quick to give critique.

“Faster!”

“That dodge was sloppy!”

“No, go your right, not your left! I left my left side open!”

“Jump!”

“Parry!”

“Sidestep!”

Even at the slow pace, Soul was panting after just twenty minutes. Maka hadn’t even broken a sweat, much to his chagrin.

They took a water break, where Maka finally asked him how he was doing.

“I can’t follow along,” he admitted.

“It’s not about seeing,” Maka said, “it’s about  _ feeling _ . You’ll be able to sense when an opening happens, when your opponent panics or messes up. Granted, it’s hard to simulate that when we’re going this slow.”

“Oh, should I wear a blindfold,” he asked sarcastically.

Horror filled Soul a moment later at Maka’s thoughtful expression.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea…”

“I was kidding!” he said, but it was too late. Maka had hopped over to the supplies, taking out what looked like a long towel.

“Tie this around your eyes,” she commanded.

Soul gave her an incredulous look that was obviously being ignored. “You...you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be. It’s a great suggestion!”

. . . . . . . . . . .

Two hours and numerous bruises later, Soul hobbled into the apartment. Maka grabbed a few shopping bags.

“I’m gonna head to the store. Blair should be home in about half an hour. Do you want anything?”

Soul shook his head. “I’m good.”

Maka smiled. “Then I’ll be off. Just make sure you start the rice cooker in about 10 minutes.”

“Got it!” Soul paused. “Actually, hold up. Is there somewhere where I can make a phone call?”

“We have a landline,” said Maka. “Near the door.”

“Thanks.”

Soul waved Maka goodbye before dialing the number. After two rings the other line was picked up.

“Hello?”

Soul relaxed, the voice on the other line familiar. “Hey Wes, it’s me.”

“Soul!”

“Are you busy?”

“Nah, just got off work. Hold up.” A sound of shuffling, a car door slamming. Soul waited as Wes told the driver to go before his voice became clear again. “What’s up?”

Soul shrugged a bit. “Nothing much. Just haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Well, it’s a nice change to hear your voice. You always sent me letters when you were in Death City.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I kept them all too, if you ever want to read them again.”

“I might take you up on that, thanks.”

“So, how was your first day training with your old meister?” Wes asked. He laughed at the groan on the other end of the line. “That bad?”

“Don’t laugh! You don’t understand. She’s a monster, Wes!”

“Well what makes you say that?”

Soul paused, thinking.

“She has very high standards,” he decided. “Also, she blindfolded me.”

“Wow, kinky.”

“Wes!”

“I kid, I kid.” Wes was definitely laughing. “But you’ve been keeping busy? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I...yeah. It’s good, I guess. Hotter than Connecticut. Everyone’s cool, Maka’s really nice to me.”

“Feel like you’re beginning to remember anything?”

“Nothing useful. Just small things here and there. Like how to cut potatoes, or which way the market is.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Wes insisted.

Soul shrugged. “Guess it is. I just wish…”

Soul could hear the frown in his brother’s voice. “You wish?”

“I dunno. It’s something about Maka. I feel like she’s holding back on me or something? Like, I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like there’s a big secret that everyone’s in on, and they’re not telling me. But I don’t wanna go and make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I see.”

“What should I do?”

“Just see how it goes,” said Wes. “I’m sure things will come back to you naturally. You and Maka have been getting along well enough. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Soul smiled. Wes was right. Things were going well. It would be fine.

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Now tell me more about this weird bondage training you’re doing.”

“Wes!”

. . . . . . . . . . .

Kami sat across from Spirit at the restaurant. The three-star meister was contemplating the glass of water in her hand in a bored manner, the Death Scythe twiddling his thumbs.

“Did you have a chance to talk to Maka?”

“Not yet,” said Kami. “I want to give her some time before I decide if I'll stop by before I leave.”

“She'd be really happy to see you.”

“I would hope so.” 

“She seems to be doing well.”

“She’s managing,” said Spirit.

“And her weapon?”

“He’s slowly getting back into the swing of things. They started resonance training today.”

“I’m surprised you’re still letting her try to see this boy,” said Kami. “Aren’t you more protective of your little girl?”

“She’s seventeen, Kami. Barely younger than when we had her. Besides,” he added, “he’s a good kid, even if he’s a bit too casual for my taste.”

“You’re really letting Maka go down the same road as us, huh?”

Spirit paused. He had a lot of things he wanted to say to his former wife, but there were a few that mattered more than not.

“We…we made a bunch of mistakes,” he started. “Our relationship was a mess. Our marriage was a mess. It interfered with our work. It interfered with the way our daughter sees us. I…I won’t say I’m any better than before. Honestly, if I had it my way I would have still begged you to come back to me, but the divorce was final. And I still love you…”

Spirit glanced up at Kami’s face. It was impassive. He swallowed and continued.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that Maka is stronger than I gave her credit for. She did everything without me. She made a Death Scythe out of Soul, she sees nothing but the good in him despite the fact that she’s been so critical of men due to me. She was happy with him, and as much as I hate to lose her, she’s growing up and making decisions for herself. Staying with Soul was one of them, and as her father I’m going to support her through thick and thin.”

Kami regarded her ex-husband.

“You’re a bad man, and a bad husband,” she said decisively, “but you’re a good father. Maka should be happy you’re still trying.”

“I think she’s too independent to care anymore,” Spirit replied wistfully.

“No. If anything, she’s old enough to care. Just give it time.” Kami finished off her drink. “Well, is that it?”

“You’re not going to go see her?”

“She seems to have enough on her plate,” said Kami with a shrug. “Besides, Maka seems to have a clear idea of what she wants. She just needs Soul to go along with it.”

“Do you think that’s enough?”

“Don’t you?” Kami got up. “I’ll see you around, Spirit.”

. . . . . . . . . .

A week in the dojo and already Soul could tell the difference.

His speed was higher, he'd managed a single grazing hit to Maka's left shin, and he felt comfortable with the blindfold obscuring his vision.

“I think you should try transforming today.”

“You do?” Soul was surprised by that. “Why say that all of a sudden?”

Maybe she realized the blindfold was a bad idea?

“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly. “I’ve just been thinking how I haven’t seen you transform since getting back. Black*Star and Kilik said you did when you were training with them, but I want to see it too.

“And,” she added, “it’d give you a break from swinging a lifeless stick around.”

Soul had to admit it would be nice not to be whacked until bruising by a wooden pole. And wasn’t his goal to be reintegrated into the DWMA? Transforming was a given for a weapon. But then again…

“What if I can’t?”

“Hm?”

“What if I can’t transform?” Soul asked again. “I haven’t done it for a while, and I don’t remember how to. So like, what happens if I don’t succeed?”

Soul chewed at his lip, trying to appear cool and collective, but knowing full well his nonchalant act wasn’t that convincing. He hated to admit it, but transforming was something that weapons had to be able to do without thinking. And yeah, he’d done it by accident a few times, but he’d heard from Kid that his ability to transform was blocked when he lost his memory.

Maka’s expression became more thoughtful. “Well, most weapons aren’t able to control their transformation until well into being N.O.T. students. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re back to that point.

“But,” she added the moment Soul started to relax, “I have faith that you’ll be able to do it.”

“Way to put the pressure on.”

Maka rolled her eyes a bit. “No need to be so dramatic, Soul.”

“Just saying.”

“Just try.”

Soul sighed, but sat down on the floor. He’d been sitting last time he transformed his leg. But he was standing when he made his hand change. Maybe this wouldn’t work? Soul closed his eyes and focused on the couple of times he’d made his body parts transform.

_ I was angry the first time, but I was happy the second time. Which is better? _

A minute passed.

Soul groaned and flopped onto his back. This wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? He was able to will his arm and leg before, but suddenly turning his whole body into a weapon felt impossible.

Maka seemed to feel the same way.

“Let’s do something else,” she suggested.

Maka stood up and walked a few paces away. Soul watched her, confused. The meister nodded a bit, turned back towards Soul, and held out her hand.

“It may feel strange, but I was thinking… You know how when we were at home, just going through the basic motions without thinking triggered your memories?”

“Yeah?”

“So shouldn’t we go about your training the same way?”

Soul wasn’t following. “Wait, what?”

Maka turned away a bit, but her hand was still outstretched.

“Soul!” she shouted. “Transform!”

Soul blinked once, confused, before feeling his body leave the ground in a flash of light.

He could feel himself being twirled, but there was a strange disconnect, as if he was aware of the action rather than going through it. He didn’t feel dizzy or sick either. Just...there. The light surrounding him dissipated. A strange heaviness came over him, but it felt familiar. Right, even.

There was a grip on his body—staff? And he was looking out of his eye. Wait, one eye?

Soul blinked a bit. He turned slightly, seeing Maka’s hands holding a metal rod. But he could feel the warmth from her steady hands bleeding through his whole body.

“Woah.”

Maka smiled down at him. “Told you you could do it.”

Soul grinned. Was it even possible for weapons to grin? Whatever. He felt elated. It worked. Whatever they’d done had worked!

The moment was interrupted by clapping. Maka turned to face the door. As if by magic, Soul knew what to do. The strange light surrounded him again, and a second later he was standing upright next to Maka. He barely realized his hand was holding hers.

Death the Kid walked into the dojo, followed by his two trusty weapons. He was smiling.

“Congratulations, Soul,” he said. “It seems your reintegration is going very smoothly.”

“It is!” Maka said brightly. “Told you he could do it!”

“I’ll admit I was skeptical, but I should have expected no less from our top pair.”

Soul flushed a bit in embarrassment and pride while Maka giggled. Kid just nodded before turning around and heading back out the door.

“I have a request. Can you two come with me? It’s regarding the next steps for Soul.”

The weapon and meister exchanged a look. Soul shrugged and gestured towards Kid’s back. Maka just nodded and pulled him along. It was then that Soul noticed their fingers were intertwined.

He didn’t want to pull away.


	13. Mission Impossible: Soul's First Day on the Job

Kid opened the doors to his office and gestured for the others to sit. Maka took the seat on the left, Soul the one to the right. Kid pulled out what looked like a fancy plaque of some sort. It was framed in black with his trademark skull pattern on the bottom. When Soul looked at it, he could see that what appeared to be coordinates and a name were etched onto the piece of wood in black ink.

Maka was frowning at it.

“A mission post? And one so close?” She looked up at Kid. “What’s this for?”

“Since Soul appears to be making immense progress, I’ve decided to give him a chance. Maka, Soul, I’d like the two of you to take down this man.”

Soul was immediately frightened. Three weeks back and he was expected to just get up and fight?!

As if sensing his unease, Kid smiled. “It’ll be fine. Normally we would leave these for one-star meisters and weapons in the E.A.T. classes, but I’ve decided to assign this one to the two of you, especially given your track record.”

“Thank you, Kid,” said Maka, nodding slightly. “We’ll take it.”

Soul, on the other hand, looked astounded.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

But Maka wasn’t listening. She was already heading towards the door. “Come on Soul, let’s go.”

“Wait, but—!”

But Maka was already out the door. Soul gave a despairing gaze to the the others in the office. Kid’s face was impassive, Liz was rolling her eyes, and Patty was waving him out.

“Good luck!” she called.

How helpful.

Soul had to run to catch up with Maka. She was walking faster than usual, which sucked for the sore weapon. As soon as they were out of earshot of the office, Soul was whirling around to confront Maka.

“What the heck was that about, Maka?”

“What the heck was what?”

“Taking up that mission. You know I’m not ready!”

Why was Maka smiling? She was smiling. Who the hell smiled about a potential life-and-death situation?

Her giggle was equally infuriating. “I know. But I still think you can do it.”

Soul growled a bit in frustration.

“Maka, I’ve only been back in Death City for a couple of months. I still haven’t recovered many memories, I’m barely able to transform, and I’m failing all of my remedial lessons. What makes you think I’m ready to take on a corrupted soul?”

“Because you have hundreds of time before.”

What did she mean by that?

“You may not remember it Soul, but you’re a Death Scythe. We’ve been fighting together for five years. Even if your brain doesn’t remember, your body does. You’ve felt the way you move during our spars. And you were able to successfully transform when I command you to.”

He had. He couldn’t deny his body somehow knew when to lunge and dodge and block, despite the motions being sloppy and slow. He also couldn’t deny that he was able to take on his weapon form in the presence of his meister.

Maka could see the realization of the truth of her words in his eyes. She smiled.

“Besides,” she added, “maybe being put in a real-life situation will jog something. You’ve been remembering things in our day-to-day lives. Collecting souls was part of it, to some extent.”

What Soul hated about it was that she had a point.

“Fine,” he agreed begrudgingly, “but only because I don’t want to disappoint you.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Just two hours later the two were in the midst of the first battle since Soul’s reintegration to the DWMA, and quite frankly he was beyond overwhelmed. The corrupted soul didn’t even resembled a human anymore, which Soul wasn’t sure why he was expecting it to look more human than not.

It was quite honestly a horror.

The once-man had a protruding gut, an elongated tongue, and sharp teeth. His eyes glinted with hunger and malice. Maka was stepping around his wide swipes without any problem, but she was struggling a bit. Why was it.

Her swings were slow. Soul realized with a start that it was because he was heavy in her hands.

_ I shouldn’t be this heavy. _

Just then, something happened.

Pain.

The sharp headache caused Soul to lose his concentration. His hands came up to grip his head. Wait, hands? At what point did he detransform?

But more importantly, where was his meister.

Soul looked around in a slight panic, then saw her a few feet behind him.

“Maka!”

Soul immediately ran over to her side. He stopped a bit short, staring.

Maka’s hands were smoking as if something had burned her. But the only thing she’d been holding was him. So that meant…

A flash of recognition crossed Soul’s expression.

_ I’ve done this before. _

The memory was hazy, but it was there. There was snow, they were on a bridge, there was a wolfman. Their wavelengths slipped out of sync. Maka—she’d thrown him aside and leapt at the enemy with no weapon or defense.

A surge of protectiveness suddenly took over Soul.

_ I won’t let her and her not-fat ankles get hurt by me again! _

“Soul!” It was Maka’s voice. She was standing, seemingly okay. “Transform.”

He did so without a second thought.

Maka gripped him like before, her jaw set at the burning sensation of her palms. Soul was concerned, but he focused on their wavelength instead.

_ Focus, Soul,  _ he told himself.  _ Steady. Keep your mind sound. _

It only took a second before he relaxed again. This time, though, Soul kept his eyes closed. He was vaguely aware that Maka was swinging him. He could hear her footsteps, the clanging of himself colliding with their opponent.

_ Maka knows what she’s doing. She can guide you. _

_ Let me guide you, Soul. _

He felt a rush of relief wash over him. It was if Maka was talking to him without actually speaking.

_ You won’t hurt me,  _ her voice seemed to say.  _ Not this time. _

Soul opened his eyes and watched the fight.

For a moment there, everything felt perfect. Right. Like it was meant to be. He felt his body move, he saw Maka counter each attack, and then there was the moment where his blade cut through the monster like butter.

And just like that, it was over.

Maka let go of him, giving Soul a chance to transform. He landed on his feet, stretching. Even though he’d felt nothing during the battle, he was sore for some reason. Soul turned around to where the thing they’d offed had been. In its place was a glowing red orb. 

“Is that…?”

“A corrupted soul? Yeah.” Maka winced as she pointed to it. “You may want to take care of it.”

Soul turned to her. “How?”

“Well, normally you’d eat it, but we could just keep it in your pocket and let Kid bury it.”

“I ate these?!”

“You consumed 99 corrupted souls and one witch’s soul to become a Death Scythe. Besides, you seemed to enjoy eating them.”

Soul wanted to ask more questions, but he quickly pocketed the soul. Maka was already walking away from the battleground and closer to a main street.

“Hold up. So I can  _ eat  _ these things? Won’t I get corrupted?”

“Weapons can’t get corrupted from consuming corrupted souls. I could, but not you. You’re special.”

“Huh.”

“Of course, a shinigami can force you to expel them. Like the old Lord Death did when we failed and accidentally had you eat Blair’s soul instead.”

_ Now I really want to know what that’s all about,  _ Soul thought to himself, but shook his head. Later. Right now, his job was to get Maka home in one piece. Though what were those memories that had come back during the fight. Why at that moment?

“Soul?”

He snapped out of his stupor. Maka was smiling, but there was obviously a bit of pain behind said smile.

“Can you call Kid for me? My hands are a bit…”

“Ah. Right.” Soul stood in front of the glass and breathed on it until it fogged up. “What’s the number again?”

“42-42-564.”

Soul wrote it in. A moment later the glass began to glow and Kid appeared. Beside him was Spirit, who was looking anxiously over the shinigami’s shoulder.

“Maka Albarn and Soul Evans reporting!” Maka said firmly.

“Good to hear from you too so promptly. I take it the mission went well?”

“Not as perfect as it could have been,” Maka admitted, “but the corrupted soul has been collected. I’ve sustained a few minor injuries. I’ll just need a day off before getting back into things.”

“I trust you’ll do that.” Kid then turned to Soul. “How did it feel to be back on the job?”

Soul thought for a moment. How did it feel? It was scary, for sure, and there was the awful moment where he’d managed to hurt Maka. But other than that…

“Surreal?”

On the other line, Spirit laughed a bit.

“You’ll get the hang of it, kid. Most first-timers can’t even hold their transformation because they’re too busy panicking. You did good, even if I’m pissed my daughter got hurt because of your sloppiness.”

“Papa,” Maka warned, but Soul held up a hand.

“He’s right,” said Soul. “I fucked up. You would’ve come outta that without a scratch on you if I didn’t panic from slipping out of sync with you again.”

Kid hummed thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps I was a bit hasty in throwing you into battle. We’ll stick to the basics again, once Maka is fully healed. Does that work with the two of you?”

The two nodded.

“Well then, in that case I shall consider this mission completed. Soul, please deliver the soul to me as soon as you can. Maka, get lots of rest, and let us know if you want Nygus to bring over some healing hand cream.”

“Thank you Kid!”

“See ya soon.”

The window stopped glowing. Soul stood awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do. Maka was the one who led him away, back towards the bike.

“I’ll be fine.” Maka gestured towards the motorbike. “Let’s go home, Soul.”

“Are you sure you can hold onto me?” he asked. “We could always just get a hotel for the night.”

Maka shook her head. “The sooner we get the soul to Kid, the better. Again, I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

Against his own better judgement, Soul turned the engine own. Maka clambered on carefully. The ride home was silent. All he could think of were the strange memories that had surfaced in that moment, and the odd calm that washed over him after he’d regained his composure.


	14. Resonate! A Song in G

“Maka?”

She looked up from her book. “Hm?”

Soul sat down on the armchair adjacent to her spot on the couch. He glanced at Maka, eyes brimming with a question.

“Is something…wrong, Soul?”

“Not wrong.” That wasn’t the word he was looking for. “Off?”

“Off?”

“Yeah, off.”

It had been two days since their mission, and Soul knew he was avoiding Maka a bit. He knew it was the guilt. He’d managed to hurt Maka, and even though she and everyone else insisted it was fine, he couldn’t help but taste bile every time Maka winced as she used her hands. Meisters healed fast, but even still her skin was pink and shinier than usual on her palms and fingertips.

“I was wondering if we could do what we did the other night again.”

Maka was confused for a moment.

_ Surely not the fighting? _ she thought. But then it clicked. “You want to resonate with me?”

Soul blushed and turned away. “We don’t have to. I mean, you said what we used to do was pretty intimate anyway. It’s just… Death, this sounds weird out loud!”

Soul’s voice wavered slightly. Whether the request was silly, out of hand, or just uncalled for, he wasn’t sure, but surely something had to give way in their silence. Perhaps this was the answer.

Maka waited patiently for him to get over his sudden shyness. Soul cleared his throat before continuing.

“It’s just… it felt  _ right _ , ya know? Like it was something I should be doing.”

A sense of relief grew in Maka’s heart. The deeper intimacy she knew may not have entirely returned, but his request—him admitting to the fact that his spot seemed to remain with her in both body and soul—was comforting. Resonating with him was a welcome invitation at any time, especially now, when it brought her closer to the bond they had previously.

“Alright. Hold your hands out for me.”

Maka put down her book and leaned over until her hands were placed gently in his. He looked up. She smiled reassuringly. Yet, she felt a sense of him holding back. He seemed cautious, unsure, despite his request, unless….  _ Oh, right, the burns _ . Of course, typical Soul, watching out for her injuries. 

“Don’t worry, Soul, I’m fine. If I can hold a book, I can hold your hands, okay?”

Without breaking eye contact she slowly let her wavelength reach out to find his.

Soul flinched slightly as he sensed her presence, but he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut, and he accepted Maka’s wavelength as naturally as breathing. It only took him a few minutes to return it back to her, twinged with his own.

“So,” he said after another minute or so, “is this resonance?”

“More like we’re in sync than anything,” Maka replied. “But yes. This is the early stages of resonance. It means—”

“—our wavelengths are aligned.” Soul finished. He smiled a bit. “Yeah, I remember that from the lessons.”

It was funny how Soul relaxed. His shoulders slumped, breathing evened, and eyes closed. For someone still learning this stuff, he was quite open and accepting to it. Or maybe it was the comfort she was sensing. Yes, the emotions were flowing through her as if they were her own again. Comfort. Home. A sense of belonging.

“What does resonating feel like to you?” Soul asked. He’d never thought about the other end. 

“To me?” Maka asked.

Soul nodded.

The meister thought for a few moments. “It’s hard to explain. It feels like something we’ve done for years, that we’ve built on. But it also feels like I’m putting something together again.”

“Putting something together?”

“That’s a weird way to put it. What’s better? Like, almost like an old sweater? Like the seams are coming apart and I’m knitting it back together again.” Maka frowned at her own analogy. “I can’t really think of anything that’s closer to it.”

“I see.”

He could feel it too, in a way. It wasn’t quite the same healing quality that Marie possessed, but it was just as soothing to Soul. It put him at ease to have Maka resonate with him.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What does resonance feel like to you?”

That got Soul’s attention. He hadn’t really thought about it before that moment. What did resonance actually feel like?

“Warm,” he concluded. “It feels like a hug. It makes me feel safe.”

“Does it feel weird at all?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “But it’s mostly good. It feels familiar. And it makes me feel like I’m remembering something.”

Maka sat up a bit at that. “Really?”

“Yeah. Weird, right?”

Something clicked in Maka’s mind at his response. If he felt like he was remembering things now, during this… then this could be the answer they needed. What more could she do to enhance the effect, though? Thoughts back to their days against their worst foes, the ones that challenged them to their highest… what  _ was  _ it that made them stronger? The black blood? Or… 

Maka silently gasped in realization. Their time in the black room… this was the ultimate moment in their strength, when they touched hands, moved at the same rhythm while occupying that single dark, dark space, and the teamwork it took to ward off the red demon. 

“Hey, Soul?”

“Hm?” the weapon mumbled.

“Do you want to dance?”

That got him to react. Soul opened his eyes, blinking owlishly. Maka couldn’t help but give him a teasing grin at his expression.

“Dance?”

Maka nodded. She stood up, letting their resonance drop. Soul almost felt loss, but Maka was pulling him to towards the center of the living room, where there was the most room.

“Did we dance a lot? Y’know…before?”

Maka laughed. “Death no! I may be your meister, but I’ve got two left feet in heels. You’re the one who’d always have to deal with me stepping on your toes. So lead, okay?”

“I’m not sure I can? I’ve never really danced with anyone else, except an instructor.”

“Sure you can! I lead the rest of the time in battle anyway. I need you to ground me sometimes. In this resonance, it’ll come natural.”

Soul sighed in defeat after a moment of consideration. If resonating was helping, maybe this would, too. “Fine. Just don’t step on my feet.” 

Maka chuckled, a wry and guilty smile upon her lips. “I can’t make any promises.”

Soul looked around, confused. “No music?”

“We don’t need it. Resonate with me again.”

Soul seemed skeptical, but he took Maka’s hand and accepted her wavelength. It was much easier than before. Somehow it felt…stable. He didn’t know how or why he knew that, but he went with it.

Maka relaxed a bit as their resonance stabilized. She moved a bit, swaying as the familiar song began to play. Soul sighed. His body began to move as well, smooth and fluid. He let the oddly familiar song wash over him. It was light and airy, but there was something strangely grounding about it. He didn’t hesitate to lead Maka in small circles around their living room.

What began as an awkward motion slowly eased into natural action. Planned movements evolved into thoughtless strides, save for an occasional stomp on a toe here and there. Soul didn’t say anything, but his grit teeth and winces said more than enough. 

“Sorry!” Maka muttered each time. “Told you, two left feet. We can quit, if you want.”

“No, no! This is actually really…”

Maka took another quick glance into his eyes. “Numbing, right? Yeah, it’s been a while. There’s never been anyone else I trusted enough with this awkward rhythm of mine.”

The meister’s cheeks warmed up slightly. Maybe that was going a bit past the mental cap she’d established. Still, she continued to dance, unwilling to put a stop to this beautiful moment, a moment that reminded her of  _ them _ .

“Actually, I was going to say it’s nice. I… this is going to sound strange.” Soul laughed nervously. “But I’m actually starting to hear the music now.”

A quick glance from green eyes met his. “Oh?”

“Yeah…” Soul looked up in thought, trying to recollect some description of what he’d heard.

“A song in G,” he murmured.

Maka closed her eyes and leaned against Soul’s chest. She could hear it too, the familiar melody of their resonance.  _ A song in G… isn’t that what he always picked up from her in times of resonance like this?  _

“How does it feel?” she asked after a moment.

“It’s so weird,” Soul admitted. “I barely know what I’m doing. I’m probably acting like a little kid to you. But this,  _ this feels right _ . And it’s all from a life I don’t even remember. Like even this music…”

Soul trailed off. The words that came next just felt like something from a distant memory. “It’s something we made together, isn’t it?”

He felt Maka’s pain before seeing it. It bled into their combined wavelength and bloomed red against the blue. Soul’s eyes snapped open as he looked down at the meister.

“Maka?”

Maka gasped as she snapped back into reality. She shook slightly and backed away.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, forcing her throat to stop closing up. “I think that’s enough for today. We should rest. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Soul.”

She tried to pull out of their resonance, but Soul clamped down on her retreating wavelength. He also grabbed her wrist for good measure.

“Maka, wait!”

A pregnant pause filled the air, leaving Maka unable to ignore his words, his request, his desire to know more. 

“Show me.” When she didn’t pull away, Soul held her more firmly.

“Please,” he breathed. “I need to know. I ask you from my heart, don’t deny me this chance to learn more about who I am, or… was.”

Who was she to hold back when Soul knew there was more? He trusted her with his life, just as she did to him. He’d been striving for answers to his past, answers that would fill his soul and put him at ease. Although, this would likely be the first crack. Still, he would find out eventually, and the longer she waited, the bigger the dent it would create.

Maka shivered, then nodded into the embrace. “Okay.”

Soul closed his eyes and leaned forward reflexively. Maka tilted her head up so their foreheads met. Soul allowed himself to be washed away by the memory.

Maka hesitated at the next memory, but Soul nudged at her encouragingly. 

It was a small one. 

“My name is Maka Albarn. What’s your name?”

A young Maka was holding her hand out to him.

“You’re a demon scythe, right?” Maka smiled even more. “That’s prefect. I’m a scythe meister. Let’s team up!”

Another, and then another. They were mostly short ones: silly little arguments, stupid things like getting lost while arguing over a map, or Soul picking things out of his teeth with a single finger transformed, a piano song or two. But there were tender ones too. Hugs that lasted a long time, hands held in a way that lovers would, chaste kisses behind closed doors.

And the scream as his world went black, Echo hovering over him with a cruel laugh.

Soul gasped as his eyes snapped open. He hadn’t noticed that Maka’s wavelength had left his on its own. It was as if the room had somehow become darker and colder without her presence.

“We were more than just meister and weapon,” he said in a shaky voice, “weren’t we?”

Maka nodded.

“How long?”

She paused, wondering why she’d even allowed him that memory.  _ Don’t let the crack grow wider. The truth, the truth... _

Soul’s words broke her contemplation. “Please, Maka... How long?”

“Three and a half years,” she whispered.

Soul stared for what felt like an eternity.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asked.

“I… I’m sorry, I just didn’t want…”

“Didn’t want what? Didn’t want  _ us  _ again? If… if you didn’t want to pursue this anymore, then...” 

A feeling of hurt washed over his features. Maka couldn’t bare looking at it anymore, turning her face away and letting go of his grip instantly as she backed away closer towards her bedroom.

“N-no! It’s not like that. It just… it hurt to see you taken away! To have to live every day without the man I loved, wondering whether he would ever be back, or whether he would even care for me the same way ever again! To see the bond we had diminish in a single moment all because of…”

Tears welled in her eyes. 

Soul stood, silent, blinking in a word-less state. 

“Just… forget it okay? We’ll… we’ll pick up your training again tomorrow” Maka short-windedly spat out, dismissing what was left of that evening. 

Just like that, she disappeared into her room, door shut just a little harder than it should have been.

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul sat on his bed heavily. Nothing could lift the weight of what just happened, right there in their living room. The dance, the emotions, the connections. Sure, he was a little upset about how much she’d actually held back. After all, it was her choice to help him out. Wouldn’t she have wanted him to remember as much as possible?  

He laughed at himself in disbelief, a hand thrown over his eyes. One moment they were perfect, and the next they became broken again. This couldn’t be happening, not when everything was going so well, when he was feeling so comfortable with this life, this routine.

If that was just a glance… a  _ glance _ … at what they had, then what more had he forgotten?

He needed to know more, and it’d been her responsibility to help him! What would have driven his meister to keep something so important and so large a secret? Wasn’t their partnership supposed to be about teamwork and honesty? He knit his brows together, irritated. Secrets like this didn’t help.

_ Calm down Soul, this isn’t going to help any... _

Those tears, though. That was a look he would never forget. She was so hurt, recalling what  _ she’d  _ lost too. He wished that this pain would just go away. His, hers, boht.

_ I should’ve never asked… Would it have been better left alone? _

And yet here he was, feeling sorry for himself for being treated differently by everyone while the girl who loved him had to deal with living with her boyfriend of over three years who didn’t have a single recollection of her. It felt like something out of a bad YA novel, but here it was happening in his own life.

Unsure whether to be angry, or to be upset, Soul turned over, yanking the covers over him. Burying his face in the pillow, there was one thing he was sure of though...

He never wanted his memories back so badly.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do, Soul willed himself asleep. Tomorrow would be a new day with new opportunities. Hopefully, this time for the better.


	15. The Return of Echo

A new day proved to be no better. First thing in the morning, the pair weren’t even together. Soul woke up to Blair sitting at the table drinking some milk.

“Morning,” she said.

“Is Maka here?”

“She left early. Said she wanted to go on a run.”

“Of course she did,” he muttered, slumping at the table.

Blair smiled. “I heard things didn’t go so well.”

“You did?”

“I was taking a bath. I heard everything.”

“Oh.”

The magical cat watched Soul for a bit. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she settled with getting up and draping herself over the weapon’s body. She hugged him around his middle.

“You’ll be okay. Bu-tan understands.”

Soul sincerely doubted that she truly understood him, but Soul sighed and accepted her hug.

“Maybe I’ll go out for a bit too.”

“Want me to come along.”

Soul sat up, accidentally pushing Blair off of him. “You know what? Yeah. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll get you some fish, if you want.”

. . . . . . . . . .

The walk ended up taking a good three hours of his day. Soul had to admit that it did get his mind off of things. He’d even found a cool cafe, a few bookshops, and a music store. And Blair made good company.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” he said as they neared the apartment.

“Of course! My pleasure!”

“Soul!” someone called out.

Soul’s mood was almost immediately ruined. He turned to see Maka waving him over to where his motorbike was parked. Sighing, Soul headed over.

“Good, you’re here.”

Soul frowned. Why did she say that.

Maka turned away, pointing towards the school. “I just got a call from Kid. Apparently he wants both of us to meet him as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say. Will you drive.”

“Sure.”

Striding to his motorcycle, Soul pulled out a spare helmet. Something told him to bring it, that it always came in handy, but it wasn’t until now that he realized why. 

“Here. Safety first.”

“Of course, Soul,” Maka sighed, a caring smile on her face. His protective nature hadn’t changed at all. Hopping on behind Soul, she wrapped her arms around his waist as he revved the engine. The ride to DWMA felt comfortable, natural. 

At last pulling up to the school and parking his precious bike, the weapon and meister chose to use the elevator instead. If this seemed something so urgent, then their energy might be better preserved until they needed it. “On call” was their status, after all. 

Rushing through the halls until they reached his meeting room, they paused to catch their breath, watching Kid beckon them in further. As they took a seat, it seemed that Kid chose not to waste any time getting to business.

“Sorry for the sudden call, but I’ve got important news.”

“What is it?” Maka asked attentively. Both gave keen attention to what they would hear next.

“I won’t delay this information much longer.” Kid looked at the two of them. “Echo has been spotted again.”

Echo? The witch that had caused his amnesia. Soul frowned.

“Where?” he asked.

“Not far from here. Just in California. We’re trying to plan an attack strategy that won’t put you in danger, but I have almost no doubts that her aim is you, Soul.”

That confused Soul. “Why me?”

“Because she thinks she’ll win,” said Maka, voice steely. “Right, Kid?”

“That seems to be the case, yes. However, now that we know her patterns, her abilities, and her goals, we have a better grasp on how to handle this threat more successfully.”

“So,” Soul said, “what’s the plan, then?”

“I’m going after Echo.” Maka stated, voice flat. Soul nodded, stepping up by her side as ready as he’d always been every time before. “No, Soul.  _ I’m  _ going. You’re staying. 

The decision shocked Soul into silence. “But you need a weapon. That IS what I’m here for, right?”

Maka seemed to ignore his statement, turning to gaze at her father. “Papa?”

Spirit perked up, surprised.

“I’ll wield you, with Lord Death’s permission.”

Soul’s silence broke instantly. “Oi, Maka!”

“This is your meister’s decision,” she said calmly. “Follow my orders.”

“That’s hardly fair!” Soul protested.

“You’re not ready! I can’t… I  _ won’t  _ fail again.” Her voice carried a tune of both concern and decisiveness, her plan of motion set in stone.

Everyone stared in tense silence at Maka. She had her back turned to Soul. He tried to reach out with his wavelength, but found that she was blocking him off. Frustrated, he growled.

“Maka…”

“Soul.” Her voice had an air of finality to it.

The deathscythe was determined to make his argument, even if it struck sensitive points. “Just because something terrible happened the first time doesn’t mean it’ll happen again. We all know the worst that could happen already.”

It struck a chord stronger than Soul expected as Maka brought her hands closed, turning to face her partner. Her words rang numb to what he’d said.

“Even at your strongest, Echo was able to take you down in two blows. One more and you’d be dead. With us unable to resonate with any stability, it’s unlikely that we’d fare any better than before. It’s best to leave this work to more experienced weapons and meisters.”

“I’m a Death Scythe too! Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Like I said, you’re inexperienced. Until you can remember more, I can’t risk it again. We can’t afford you getting hurt again.”

Soul clicked his tongue. Was she really accusing him for the very accident that made him,  _ them _ , this way?

“This probably happened because you recklessly jump into things without thinking it through!”

“Don’t you dare accuse me of anything when you don’t even know me anymore!”

“Aren’t you supposed to remind me what that even means?”

Both weapon and meister faced square against each other and huffed quite audibly, as if getting ready to scream in unison. No one dared say anything that would stake a single side. The secrecy, the tender topics of relationships, skills, accomplishments, none of it was simple at all. It was all too entwined, connected together in different perspectives like a spider’s web.

“I don’t have to take this from you. I’m… going! And don’t follow me!”

“Suit yourself, I’ve better things to do right now anyway!”

Simultaneously, they turned heel, backs facing each other, and stomped off without further word. 

“M-Maka darling! Wait!” Spirit called, as he desperately followed behind. Seeing his daughter in such a distraught state was simply intolerable, especially given the circumstances. If there was any chance he could repair anyone’s effort in this entire situation, he was going to try. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

Maka knew Soul wouldn’t follow her home. If anything rang more true about the Soul she knew today, it’s how he insisted on having space to himself when things between them heated up. He was never good at resolving tension between them as soon as it got rough. With that, she knew she was safe in their apartment.

A knocking on the door disrupted the brief silence as she stood there, thinking, unmoving. Soul? Surely not. He couldn’t have changed that much. Striding to their apartment door, she opened it carefully, only to find another unexpected visit from her dad.

“Who is it you want this time? Blair, or me?”

“You know just as much as I do. May I?”

Maka sighed, retreating to her weaker side to let him in. Of course. Her Papa had witnessed the entire argument. It was only his nature to want to be there. Admittedly, his company was actually somewhat soothing, though she’d never confess it.

“Maka, honey, are you okay? That sounded…. rough back there.”

Maka scoffed. Rough was a good word for it.

“Yeah… No…”

“You know you should have expected that response,” Spirit began as he walked inside. “I know you wanted to protect him, but…”

Maka rolled her eyes slightly. “Yeah, yeah, it would have to eventually come out. I  _ know _ , Papa.” Maka spun around to meet her father’s gaze. “But I wasn’t ready for… I wasn’t ready for it! I was just kind of hoping it would....”

“...develop all over again?”

“It would have worked.”

“And when he finally remembered your prior relationship?”

The meister’s hands were animated, bobbing with each determined word that escaped from her mouth. Her confidence overflowed as she spoke.

“I’d planned to just explain it right there and then!”

“And pretend your lives were something it was not. Even omitted information can be a lie, Maka.”

She sighed, knowing the truth in his words. The bold, all-knowing demeanor she had before vanished. “I… yeah, I guess you’re right. I was just trying to do what was best, you know?”

How had she not thought about that? She may have been strong, smart, top of the class, hell, even top ranking among any enlisted student that existed in the school. But it dawned on her then, with her Papa’s rare words of wisdom, that matters of the heart didn’t operate the same way. 

Relationships were a two-way road, and this time she didn’t consider how it was from the other direction. Where she used to understand Soul’s perspective, understand every aspect, reaction, and motion he made, she no longer did.

“Maka, honey, maybe it’s best to give this a bit more time.”

More time? There were lives at stake! “We need to beat Echo, Papa. There’s no time to give.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

Spirit gestured towards the couch. After a moment of hesitation, Maka plopped down next to him. Spirit wrapped an arm around his daughter and pulled her close.

“Maka, I understand you wanting to protect Soul. But he’s a weapon. We’re made to fight and protect. You protect each other, and I get that. That part of you is a lot like your mother.”

His daughter leaned in, finding a rare comfort in his warmth. Stories about her mom always soothed her, and he knew it. 

“She was always stubborn. Every shortcoming I had as a man, a husband, and a weapon, she covered.”

“What does Mama have to do with me?” she asked bitterly.

“You never gave yourself a moment to grieve. You put on that strong face you always wear, never letting down, never letting anyone see even a  _ speck  _ of weakness. You remember how wrecked I was when your Mama left me.”

“He’s back, Papa. There’s no reason to grieve. And I’m not as weak as you.”

That stung, but Spirit swallowed his pride and continued.

“And he’s not the Soul you once knew. Not completely, anyway.” Spirit sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, Maka, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. It’s not your fault that Soul is in the position he’s in now.”

“But it is!”

“Maybe,” Spirit admitted. “But Soul chose to come back anyway. He may not remember everything, or most things, or anything important, but he came back. He wants to know. He also knew that coming here and trying to reintegrate himself at the DWMA meant he’s willing to put his life on the line again. We all signed up for that as weapons and meisters.”

Maka was silent for a long minute, trying to stifle her sniffling. She wanted to cry so bad, but her father would know better than to think she would now. Instead, Spirit waited patiently, never leaving her side on the couch. 

Moments later, she finally began speaking.

“Sometimes I forget. We’ll just be sitting there and it’s almost like before everything. I’ll be reading a book and he’ll just bring me a hot drink like always.” Maka sniffled. “It’s stupid stuff too. Like how he folds the socks, or tells me to take out the trash because it’s my turn. He just knows what’s right, but not really.”

“And one day, he’ll come back around completely. Just you wait.”

“Thanks, Papa. I… I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Spirit smiled with pride, giving Maka one more tight hug. “Anytime, darling, anytime.”

It may have been a long journey, but at last he’d earned those words.

. . . . . . . . . .

Soul banged on the solid wood door before him. No, it wasn’t the door to their apartment. He’d been too angry, too disappointed in Maka’s declaration to even think about returning home. The jog up the five story building wasn’t worth the screaming he would inevitably come back to.

“Yo, CHILL!  I’m  _ getting  _ it!” the muffled voice on the other side exclaimed. The door abruptly jerked open with just as much determination as the knocking. Black*Star stood before Soul, the frame being the only thing separating them.

“Uh… oh, it’s you. You oka-”

He never had a chance to finish his question, though, interrupted by an unusually fuming Soul. Even the shade of his face expressed the very boiling feelings stirring inside his disrupted mind.

“It’s just--UGH! How could she?!” Soul shouted as he welcomed himself inside, no greeting, hello, or ‘how are you’ to make his presence known.

Black*Star stood, motionless, wide-eyed. “Uhhh…. You’re welcome?”

The sarcastic tone went unnoticed, though, as his friend continued letting off steam.  

“I’m her weapon!” insisted Soul. The death scythe swiveled around, his gaze matching to meet Black*Star’s, this time colder than not. “I’m her weapon… Why don’t I get a say in it?”

The blue-haired meister cleared his throat.  “ _ A say in what _ ? Man, you gotta clarify!”

“And she had the nerve to hide the fact that we were dating!” 

A drop of a spoon from the kitchen. A stumble from the blue-haired boy. Both Black*Star and Tsubaki looked up, surprised.

There was definitely no beating around the bush tonight. The duo hadn’t expected something so abrupt.

“You know about that?” Black*Star finally asked. 

“I made her tell me,” he admitted, welcoming himself even further without question to plop down hastily on their couch. “We were resonating, and... I could sense she was holding back on me.”

Soul’s tone began to calm down after realizing the ruckus he’d brought in. “Resonating helps with the memories. I saw the day I was declared the Last Death Scythe. So… I asked her to share what she was hiding.”

Both the demon weapon and meister were at a loss of words, a pause entirely too long, a tell-tale sign of their guilt. Black*Star sat beside Soul, patting him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“You all knew.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Dude, it’s not what you think, really.”

“Maka asked us to keep it quiet,” said Tsubaki, gently strolling over to the two boys. “She didn’t want to overwhelm you, or pressure you.”

“I feel like that’s a really big thing to not tell a person,” Soul muttered.

“Soul-kun, can you think of this from Maka’s perspective for a second?”

“Yeah, sure. ‘ _ I’m here to help you, but I’m not going to tell you about the biggest thing in our lives _ ’. That’s  _ really  _ helpful.”

“Seriously, imagine if you were in her spot, man. Wouldn’t you be unsure of what to say?”

“Well, yeah! I’d tell her anything she needed to know! Not some misleading bull shit.”

Tsubaki sat down beside Soul, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. This was a job for her. Black*Star scooted away a bit, deciding to get some drinks for them.

“Soul-kun, you may be her weapon, and you may have been her boyfriend, but you’re still learning how to be her weapon again. You’re not the same person you once were.”

“But wouldn’t it have helped, at least a little…to just  _ know _ ?”

“Are you saying she should’ve forced her feelings upon you the moment you got back? Or insist on an environment you might have been uncomfortable with? These things take time, Soul. They don’t happen overnight.”

Soul remained silent. Tsubaki smiled. Of course she was right. 

“I thought so.”

“It’s just…. I don’t know. Yeah, I guess I probably  _ would  _ have been uncomfortable. Everything is so new. It’s like I’m starting from scratch again. And there’s nothing else I can do about it.”

Tsubaki offered a warm smile, an encouraging expression in her eyes. “It’s okay. You know we’re all here for you. I’m glad you came by.” 

“What do I do now?” Soul sounded set, ready to mend what had been so painfully broken. 

“Talk to her. Sit down, have a conversation, hear what she has to say and tell her how you feel. Find a middle ground.” Tsubaki laughed a bit. “Why does it always feel like I should’ve been a counselor?”

“You’ve been good at telling us we’re being idiots. Like that time we fought Free.”

“Oh, you remember that?” Black*Star questioned, intrigued by Soul’s recollection. He set three colas on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Tsubaki simply smiled, sending her positive aura his way.

Soul nodded. He decided not to mention he remembered it because he’d managed to burn Maka’s hands again when they were fighting the corrupted soul. It was a reminder of what their broken rhythm had caused not too long ago. Maka was getting hurt entirely too much, both physically and emotionally. It was time to resolve that.

“Why don’t you join us for dinner, Soul?” the woman asked. Her invitation was irresistible. Even though Soul was much calmer now than before, a night out sounded nice. If at the very least, he didn’t want to accidentally say anything that would hurt Maka even more. The dinner smelled delicious, calling his tastebuds with the same temptation as her words.

“YEAH! Besides, food solves  _ anything _ !” 

Soul had to agree, Black*Star’s statement almost rang true.


	16. Confrontation

Maka sat alone, trapped in her own thought on their small balcony. Sure, Soul had come back home. She knew he would eventually, but it felt strange to face him, to see him, after their bad, no… bad was an understatement, their  _ horrible  _ encounter. 

No one warned her that helping a boyfriend who didn’t remember dating her would be so hard emotionally. It turned just as she was afraid it would. He found out, and they carried two entirely different standpoints. The first major argument they’d had since dating, and all because of a  _ stupid  _ accident, jumping into a situation they didn’t know anything about.

Maka drew her knees closer to her chest. It was chilly at night in the desert, but Maka couldn’t bring herself to go inside. Instead, the balcony door opened.

A quiet and familiar voice spoke behind her, though. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Soul came out to the balcony. He had a blanket in one arm, and a hot drink in a mug in one hand. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Maka didn’t say anything, but she scooted over slightly. 

Taking it as an invitation, Soul sat down as well. They remained side-by-side in silence on the two-person loveseat.

“We should talk,” Soul began.

“We should,” she agreed. “Soul, listen, I—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “I was just as much an ass as you said.”

“And I wasn’t giving you enough credit! I should’ve known I could’ve trusted you with some of the stuff I didn’t tell you!”

“It’s fine, really. Things like this happen. Well, not always the amnesia part, but..”

Maka understood well what he was getting to. She nodded, thankful for sharing this space together with him again. Sitting close to him, even after their outburst, was comforting. It was a reminder that she hadn’t lost him. 

“We’ve been through so much together, you know? Learning how to do these things. Hunting kishins. Collecting souls. The time we invested in each other, it’s always been my most cherished memories.”  _ Memories…  _ Oh, perhaps that’d still been a sensitive subject... She quickly changed the wording of her speech.

Maka gazed up at the sky. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever  _ really  _ trusted completely, even more than my own father.”

“I can tell,” said Soul. “Even if I don’t remember, I can tell. The way everyone talks about  _ us _ made me realize how much we’ve done. Together.”

“I was so afraid I’d chase you away if you knew, that you wouldn’t want to be here.”

“But I am.”

This earned a smile from Maka as she looked at the sky to gaze upon his face again. “Maybe… we need to come to an agreement.”

Soul looked puzzled. “An agreement? Aren’t we already partners?”

“Well, yeah. Alright, maybe that’s not the right word. A promise.” 

Soul wasn’t sure to what depth this promise meant, but he was already sure that this life was already an experience twenty times better than what he remembered from his family’s home in Connecticut. There couldn’t be anything worse than what they just experienced (set aside from fighting monsters). At least here, he could be who he really was. 

“Sure.”

Maka shifted so her body was facing Soul, raising her right hand in oath. Soul raised an eyebrow at the extra motion, but relaxed his face, turning undivided attention to his meister. “I promise not to underestimate you, to trust you, and to never deceive or lie to you again.”

“And I promise…” Soul paused a moment, realizing his hand wasn’t up. Lifting his right hand up to mirror her action, he continued. “I promise to always put in my greatest effort to protect you, be patient with you, and trust in your decisions… my  _ meister _ .” Finishing with a taught, but small bow, he returned the same smile she’d sent his way. 

“Agreed then!”

“I was wondering…”

Soul shied away a bit, biting his lower lip and glancing away for a moment. Quickly, his eyes returned to meet hers once more. “Can you tell me more about us, and our lives?”

Maka hadn’t been expecting that. She looked over at Soul in confusion. He was staring at her, eyes pleading.

“Maka,” he said softly, “you know me better than even I know myself right now. But what I do know is that I want this again.” He took her hand. “I want us again. Maybe not…maybe not in an intimate way, but at least as weapon and meister…”

He could feel the moment Maka began to resonate with him again. Matching his wavelength. The warmth spread through him from his fingertips all the way down his arm and to his heart. It was comfortable. Understanding. Steady.

“What do you want to know?” she whispered.

“Everything.”

Their eyes closed, their foreheads touched. It felt familiar, intimate, but not in a bad way. Their breathing even lined up. Soul opened his eyes. It took Maka a moment later, but her eyes met his.

A deep, shaking breath. “Where should I start?”

Soul smiled a bit. “I’ve always read that the beginning is a good place to start.”

. . . . . . . . . 

“Now what?”

“Now we go and kick Echo’s ass.”

Soul chuckled. “Was waiting for you to say that, Angel.”

It hurt a bit to be called that name of endearment, but Maka decided against saying anything. This was what they were going to do. This was the first steps.

“But seriously, what’s the plan.”

“We need to think of one,” Maka decided. “That means we’re gonna train extra hard though. We can’t leave a single opening.”

“We need help,” said Soul. “We can’t do this alone.”

“Or maybe we can…”

Soul could tell this was a bad idea, but he leaned forward.

“Go on.”

“So, Kid gave us the location of Echo, right? And from what the witches have heard, she’s alone. If we try a full-on attack like last time, then it may be risky. She’s probably anticipating that.”

Soul could see where she was going with this. “You want to launch a sneak attack.”

“I do.”

“Won’t that be risky?”

“Extremely so.”

Soul contemplated for a few moments. He already felt like he knew his answer.

“I’ll need a full tank of gas if we’re getting to California.”

Maka grinned. “Let me get my jacket.”

. . . . . . . . . .

The sun was rising by the time the two of them arrived in the small town on the outskirts of the California-Nevada border. The moment they parked the motorcycle, Maka was headed towards the neighborhood that resembled a ghost town.

“This it?” Soul asked.

“We’ll check it for now. And I’ll leave a note for Kid, just in case something goes awry. Then they’ll know where we went.”

“Why not call him now?”

“He’ll make someone get us. Either a witch, or himself personally. I’d rather keep everyone out of it.”

“That was a bad idea,” said a woman’s voice.

Soul and Maka wheeled around at the voice. The meister’s expression went sour.

“Did you really follow us all the way here, Papa?”

The Death Scythe held up his hands. “I’m going to start off by saying it was my idea, but I didn’t do it alone.”

There was a car parked nearby, the driver’s side door opening. Maka gasped when she saw who it was.

“Mama!”

Maka’s mom? Soul watched as Maka embraced her.

She looked a lot like Maka: same hard-set eyes, same firm lips, same slim build. She was shorter than Maka, and her hair was cut short. It was black; Soul wasn’t sure if it was naturally that dark or not. From what he had heard, the three-star meister was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

“When did you get back to Death City? Why are you here?”

“I’m here to make sure my daughter and her weapon don’t do anything stupid,” said Kami. “Also, I have been compiling information on Echo in the last couple of months.”

“Kami has been keeping it under wraps, but she’s been scouting the moves of this witch and her rebellion for a while,” Spirit added. “I contacted her soon after Soul’s injury. She’s been keeping an eye on you, as was my request.”

“Stop acting like you’re the only one worried about your daughter, Spirit.”

Yikes, thought Soul. Kami’s voice was cold.

The older meister gestured to the weapons. “Transform now. I’d rather go in sooner rather than later. This witch is her weakest when the sun rises. It’s best to go in soon.”

The two weapons exchanged a glance, nodded, and transformed. Kami took a firm hold of Spirit’s body. Soul glided down in to Maka’s hand. He immediately felt her wavelength, relieved.

“What should we do about her anti-magic wavelength, Mama?”

“We have to make sure her hands can’t touch you,” said Kami. “And I’m working off a hunch here, but I have a feeling that Echo can’t perform the same spell on a person twice.”

_ ::What?::  _ Soul asked.

Kami nodded, walking towards the broken down buildings down the street.

“She’s insistent on killing her targets, which seems very unnecessary if she’s able to block off their powers for a long time. And if not, then she can just cast her magic again. But Echo always goes for the kill. She messed up with Soul.”

“So what you're saying is that we need to deliver the final blow.”

“Precisely.”

Spirit spoke.  _ ::Kami and I are going to be your backup. We’re going to stay hidden unless you need us. Just let us know, and we’ll be there for you honey.:: _

Maka smiled down at the other scythe. “Thanks Papa.”

Kami gestured for the two to stop talking.

“We’re here.”

Soul swallowed mentally. It was now or never. He barely had memories or control over his own wavelength, but he felt good.

_ ::Let’s do this.:: _

. . . . . . . . . .

Maka strode into the house. “Echo! I know you’re here! Come out and face me!”

Soul knew this was on purpose. This was so Kami and Spirit could sneak in the back. Still, he felt nervous.

_ Calm down,  _ Maka’s voice said through their connection.  _ We’ll be fine. _

There was a laugh from above. Maka took the nearby steps two at a time. She stood and faced Echo, who was floating in the middle of the second floor hallway. She waved a bit.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the pretty meister girl and her loyal blade. Though it seems like he’s still a bit green, hm? What a lovely little wavelength he has. You must be proud.”

Soul could hear Maka’s grip on him tighten. “What’s it to you, Echo?”

“Oh, everything darling. I’d hate to have to kill both of you because of incompetence. Your weapon there, how is handling him when his wavelength is so beneath yours?”

_ Wait, what? _

Maka never mentioned that. Soul wished he could see her expression, but the next thing he knew he was being swung at a speed much higher than he’d ever anticipated. He grit his teeth (or so he felt) as he collided with the ground where Echo had been lounging mere moments ago. The witch was still giggling, now floating above them, Soul lodged into the floor.

_ ::Maka, calm down!:: _ Soul commanded.  _ ::We can’t fall to her games. She’s just trying to make you angry!:: _

“Yeah, and it’s working!”

_ ::Fall back!:: _

Maka ripped him from the ground and hopped back as a blast of hair hit the ground where Soul was embedded just moments before.

“You’ve always been the more rational of the two of us.”

_ ::That’s my job.:: _

“Yeah, it is.”

_ ::Go left!:: _

There was a clang as Maka blocked Echo’s attack with Soul’s body. She flipped him in her hands so his blade came up to meet Echo. Not expecting it, it actually connected. Echo backed up, holding the cut under her chin. Maka grinned.

“Let’s give her a taste of her own medicine!”

Maka launched herself forward, with Soul in tow. Soul closed his eyes, focusing all of his energy on being as steady as possible. He knew he could trust Maka.

_ I’m the one who knows all her weaknesses. I know where she has to cover. _

_ ::Roll left!:: _

Another attack was dodged. Maka kept closing the gap between them and the witch. She didn’t want Echo to have the range she needed to make the attack.

If Maka could close that gap enough, then maybe Kami and Spirit could hit her from behind. Soul, trusting this as well, just let it come. Closer, closer. Each swing was like an arc of light. The sound of battle was intense.

Maka was succeeding too. They weren’t solid hits, but they were doing damage. Echo’s hair was sliced on one side, her dress was a bit ripped, and one of gloves had been torn off. Maka was panting. Her muscles were screaming for her to stop, but she kept going forward.

More.

The mantra kept repeating itself in her head.

More, more, more, mo—

_ ::Look out, your left!:: _

Maka saw the blow, but was too slow. Unable to dodge it, she was punched firmly in the jaw. The meister crashed through the brittle wall and down to the first floor. She coughed blood at the impact.

“Maka!”

Soul dropped his transformation. He reached for her, but the headache came back. Soul felt like his skull was being split open.

_ Maka had held out her hand. He tried to transform, tried to be there for her. To fell the witch. But he couldn’t. Fear. His breath was gone, then he was flying through the air. Darkness. _

Soul gasped. Echo was above him, her grin too wide for her painted lips.

“Oh? Does the little blade remember now? I can tell those memories are starting to leak out. Pity. I was hoping those effects would be more permanent.”

“What?”

“My little spell. I was hoping I could kill you off before the effects wore off.”

_ They’re temporary,  _ Soul realized with a start.  _ There’s still a chance! _

“You are weak,” said Echo, reaching for her.

Soul hopped back, feet lighter than before. Was this because of all the training. It made sense. He couldn’t help but smile a bit. There was a strong blow to his stomach, but he tightened his muscles and continued to back up. He was almost to Maka, who was getting up. Just a bit more.

“I can kill you right now,” Echo tittered. “You’re not the same little weapon you used to be.”

“You’re right.”

Echo frowned. “What was that?”

Soul stood up straight. He was holding his stomach, but he was smirking.

“I said you’re right. I’m not the same person I was. And maybe I’ll never be. But ya know what? That’s okay. Because I’ve got someone who’d fight with me ‘til the end of the world, and I’d follow her to the end of the world and back as well!”

“And so what I don’t remember? So what that I may never get those memories back! Because that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I’ve got a meister who chose me, and stuck by me through everything.”

Soul gestured back to where Maka was up to her feet.

“She is my meister, and I am  _ her _ weapon. I won’t let you lay a hand on her.”

Echo flicked her wrist. The ground beneath him crumbled, but Soul hopped back, seeing that his training with Black*Star was indeed paying off.

Soul transformed and landed in Maka’s waiting hands.

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

Soul grinned.  _ ::Ready when you are.:: _

“SOUL RESONANCE!” they shouted in unison.

The sheer force of their souls was like a caged animal being released.

Maka could feel Soul struggling. She tried to back off a bit so he could--

_ ::No!:: _ Soul shouted as if he was gritting his teeth.  _ ::Don’t you dare hold back on me, Maka! We won’t win playing it safe!:: _

Maka frowned but raised Soul above her head. It was taking longer than before, but their Genie Hunter was definitely forming. She widened her stance, the world around them shaking.

Echo was taking a deep breath, preparing her Sonic Screech.

_ ::Call them,::  _ Soul commanded.

“Mama, Papa! Now!”

Echo was about to release her attack, but she choked as a sudden pain ran up her spine. She looked down to see a blade coming out of her stomach. She turned, incredulous.

“How?” she choked out.

Kami smiled. “Don’t underestimate the DWMA, witch.”

_ ::Now, Maka!::  _ Spirit shouted.

Letting out a cry, Maka used everything she had to run straight at the immobilized witch. The loose floorboards and unstable walls were sliced away as she ran. Maka leapt, swung Soul with all her might, screaming.

“YOUR SOUL IS OURS!”

Echo let out a high cry that seemed to shatter the half-broken windows. Her body turned black, struggling to hold its form before folding inward. Soul dropped his transformation and watched in morbid fascination as Echo’s body squirmed once, twice, three times, then dissipated in a rain of black.

Where she once stood was just a glowing purple orb.

Her soul.

Maka gasped, falling to her knees.

“We did it…”

Soul was laughing too, unable to believe his eyes. “We did it. Angel, we did it!”

Soul had a pounding headache, but he felt much better than before. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the witch was finally defeated, or maybe it had to do with the fact that his soul felt like it was getting a hug from Maka.

Well, Maka was also giving him a tight hug with her arms. That was a thing too.

But there were flickering, like an old film movie going three times too fast.

Him and Maka. Maka and him. The two of them together, holding hands, holding each other, being together, being with their friends.

_ My memories,  _ he realized with a start.  _ These are  _ **_my_ ** _ memories! _

“Maka!”

She jumped a bit at his sudden outburst, and seemed very uncertain when he held her shoulders and pulled her away at arm's length. She stopped struggling though when she felt the flash of recognition through their wavelength.

“Soul?”

“I remember!” he said excitedly. “Well, I remember some things, I think. It’s all rushing into me. It’s kind of a blur, really, but—”

Maka held his face in both hands, cradling it gently. She laughed, though it came out more like a sob.

“It really  _ is  _ you, Soul. You remember me.”

Soul hugged Maka tight to his chest. “I do, Angel. I do.”

Somehow, despite the pain and the uncertainty, everything finally felt right. They were back. He was back, and he was back with Maka.


	17. Epilogue: Happy Birthday, Maka

It was a day of celebration.

After nearly two months of planning, the preparations were made, the Alliance secured. In front of the whole world for the first time, a shinigami would hand over the soul of a witch back to the witches. It would be monumental. It would be the mark of a peace agreement nearly four years in the making.

It was also the time to honor a new permanent staff member of the DWMA.

Standing before the crowd at the top of the stairs to the academy, Maka smiled. Her hair was done in its usual pigtails, and she wore a red and black dress. Beside her, Kid removed his masked hood and gestured towards her for the world to see.

“Citizens of Death City and the world,” he announced in a voice projecting above the din of celebration. “I present to you Maka Albarn, Angel of Death, newest three-star meister of the Death Weapon Meister Academy!”

Maka beamed as the fanfare of music began. She gave Kid a firm handshake, then a hug. He squeezed her, the pulled away with a big smile on his face.

“Congratulations, Maka.”

“Thanks Kid. See you tonight?”

“Of course.”

The media continued to cover the event for another couple of hours. Maka was pulled away for a few words. Though she was bombarded with questions, they all had the same theme.

“Miss Albarn, what are your plans from here on out?”

“I plan to continue providing my services as a meister here at the DWMA,” she said. “And I will also continue to work with my partner, Soul Evans.”

“What is your relationship with him?” someone shouted, pressing their mic as close as they could manage.

Maka smiled. “He’s my closest companion. We’d travel to the end of the world and back for each other. Thank you.”

More cameras, more clicks, but Maka knew how to outrun the media. Even in the long dress and heels, she easily dodged reporters and blended into the crowd. A minute later she popped out near an alley where a familiar face was waiting for her.

“Congrats, Angel.”

Maka smiled at Soul. “Congrats yourself, Death’s Last Weapon. Echo couldn’t have been stopped without you.”

“Without us, you mean.”

“Shut up!” She punched his shoulder, but it was playful. "Is that really how you treat your girlfriend on her 18th birthday?"

"I dunno, maybe?"

"Asshole."

Soul grinned wolfishly. Though he stopped spiking his hair up like his teen days, he reminded her so much of the boy she’d first approached on their first days of enrollment over five years ago. He was wearing a similar suit as then—a smart black with a red shirt and skinny black tie—though this time it was much better fitted.

“Feels weird to be called that,” Soul said. “Death’s Last Weapon. Honestly, ‘Soul’ is more than enough.”

“Same for me,” said Maka. “Everyone’s going to know me as Angel now. Are you gonna get jealous?”

Soul just shrugged. “They won’t mean it in the same way I do. No reason to get hung up on that. That’d be totally uncool.”

“Guess so,” Maka said after a thoughtful pause.

“Turned in that paperwork then, did you?”

Maka just rolled her eyes and walked beside Soul towards their apartment. “Do I really have any reason not to?”

Soul shrugged. “Maybe you decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and chose to apply to some fancy private school in Europe or something.”

“Because I wouldn’t tell you if I did, huh?”

“You never know.”

The two walked side-by-side down the back alleys of Death City, away from the celebration and commotion within the city square. The two were holding hands easily, not even thinking about it. Maka was the one to break their comfortable silence.

“So now what?”

“Now we celebrate.”

Soul was leading her away from their usual route home. Her question hung silent in the summer air, but she didn’t say anything. She could feel Soul’s playful,  Trust me,  though their connection.

She recognized where Soul had taken her soon after they arrived.

“This place? Really?”

Soul chuckled. “I actually forgot how to get here, but I remembered the other day and I wanted to check it out again.”

It was an old and somewhat dingy music store that had a grand piano in the back. Maka hadn’t been there that often, but she knew Soul bought all his vintage records and sheet music from there.

“Why here? Why now?”

“Well, this is where we decided to be partners, right? Unless I’m misremembering it.”

Maka shook her head. “No, you’re right. It was here.”

Soul relaxed a bit. Though almost two months had passed since the defeat of Echo and his memories were steadily coming back, there were still gaps in what Soul remembered and what he’d heard from others, and the two began to bleed together. Resonance, they found, helped immensely. Maka’s presence was almost like a key to something greater they both needed.

“I wanted to play you a little piece,” he said as he held the door open for her, waving to the store clerk. “In private.”

“What are you going to play?”

“You’ll see.” Soul took a seat at the piano. “Care to play the first note?”

Maka sat down on the bench beside him. She didn’t even have to look anymore. Instinctively knowing what to do, she pressed down on the G key.

“Mmm.”

Soul’s hands brushed over hers as he began to play. Maka closed her eyes and listened. The melody was familiar, but not her own. It started with G; that even the meister could recognize. And yet…

“It’s from the Moon,” she said. “The souls of every person.”

Soul didn’t say anything, but she could feel his acknowledgement.

“So you remember that day?”

“Most of it,” he replied. “I remember the Black Blood leaving me. I remember Crona.”

That name got Maka to pause before answering again. Crona… Since Soul’s coming-home, they’re name hadn’t been uttered once. It brought back pain. They were somewhere out there, all alone, trapped around the Moon, and—

“We’ll get them back someday,” said Soul.

The resolve in his voice was what got Maka. She turned to look at Soul, who was calmly playing away. He looked over at her, leaning his head on top of hers.

“We’ll get them back,” she repeated, leaning against him. “Soon.”

“Yeah, soon.”

Later that night, the two would be at Kid’s house to celebrate Maka’s new title. Later that night, they would go home and lie down together in the same bed. Later that night, Soul would stroke Maka’s hair and wonder how he was so lucky to have such a loyal partner. Later that night, Maka would snuggle against his chest and close her eyes to sleep.

There were many things that would happen later that night, but for the afternoon it was just the two of them, a familiar song, and a lifetime waiting to happen.

And that was more than enough for them.


End file.
